


Ten Feet Away

by Springmagpies



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Some angst, The Office AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23077096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springmagpies/pseuds/Springmagpies
Summary: To Jemma, working for a paper company wasn't always the most fun of jobs, but working with Fitz somehow made it so much easier and so much more fun. After the events of an office poker party, however, Fitz suddenly submits himself for a branch transfer, leaving Jemma alone.  Will their relationship ever get back to where it was, will it stay how it is, or will they finally discuss what happened between them at Casino Night?
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 105
Kudos: 79





	1. Ten to Miles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LibbyWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWeasley/gifts).



> A new sitcom inspired multi-chapter fic! Yay! This started as a one-shot I made for @LibbyWeasley as a part of Luck of the Draw, but as you can see it sort of got away from me. Hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *UPDATE* A very lovely thank you to the incredibly talented and wonderful Zuza (@2minutes2midnight on Tumblr) for all the incredible headers you see used in this fic!!! Zuza, love, you are a gift to mankind and I cannot thank you enough!!

Fitz had left at the end of May, leaving Jemma to stare at an empty desk with an aching heart for the next four months. She knew Fitz’s value and was glad that the higher ups in the company had finally taken notice of it, offering him up a deal that was too good to pass up. She also was pretty sure he had been desperate to escape Pittsburg and go to DC. He had always talked about moving there one day, putting his degree and mind to use in a real life lab. 

“As much as I love selling people paper,” he had said, “I’ve never meant it to be my forever job. Plus, I could take my mum to see the cherry blossoms in the spring. Oh, and we could see all the museums, Jems. It would be great.”

Jemma was pretty certain that moving to DC for Playground Paper Company was not what he had meant when he had voiced that dream, and she also knew that this reality DC did not include her like his dream one did, but she guessed he didn’t care much right then. In fact, he seemed rather happy to go, with or without his best friend in the world. 

He didn’t want a farewell party. Fitz never was very social when it came to talking to people in the office, well people apart from herself. She had always gotten on with Fitz like a house on fire, the two of them nearly inseparable in the office. Before everything had happened, he had bounced back and forth between his desk and hers, the ten feet between them feeling like nothing as they exchanged smiles, jokes, and the occasional in-sync air-five when one of their office pranks landed. They had basically reserved seats in the conference room next to one another, they always took their lunches at the same time, and they never walked out at the end of the day without the other, cramming in as much conversation as they could before they had to go home. Selling paper wasn’t the most fun of jobs, but with Fitz as her friend, the days went by quicker than they normally would have. She only realized after he was gone just how many hours were between nine and five. 

After Fitz had left there had been a rearranging of the sales desks and Mack had taken his spot. Having worked with Mac for over a year, it wasn’t as though Jemma didn’t know him or was unable to talk to him. It was just that somehow the ten feet that separated her chair from his seemed a whole lot greater of a distance than it had when it was Fitz in the chair. Every time she looked up from her computer or finished up a phone call, she half expected to still see him sat there, pushing back the lumbar support of his chair and flashing her his boyish grin as he avoided making the calls he hated. For the incredible sales rep he was, Fitz was surprisingly averse to talking on the phone. Jemma guessed it was more his obvious brilliance and unique kind of charm that made sales come so naturally. Now when she looked up to meet his gaze, however, her eyes just caught sight of Mack, working hard on entering his numbers or talking with clients. 

She hadn’t talked to Fitz much before he left. It all went rather quickly. He had a meeting with Phil in his office, spent two days almost entirely on the phone notifying clients of his transfer and new contact information, packed his desk up in a half hour on a Friday, and was gone. They had exchanged a good morning, a goodnight, and a goodbye, leaving Jemma with so much left she wanted to say; words she was still working towards admitting and words she wished more than anything she could take back. 

It was nearly two weeks after Fitz had left when Jemma decided to break off her four-year-long engagement with her fiance, Will. She didn’t blame Will for the things that happened between them, the slow dissolving of their relationship, the endless string of disagreements, and she did appreciate that he was a very large and important part of her life. He had arrived in her life just when she needed him and they had been together so long it had been hard for her to let herself leave. After everything that had happened at the office party, the things she was pretty sure had been the catalyst for Fitz’s transfer and her revealing emotions, she knew she could no longer stay with Will. It was just that, as much as she had once loved him, Jemma just knew for certain that he could never be her life. He deserved not to be dragged along just as she deserved the same.

She had been staring at Fitz’s three-week empty desk and gathering up her things to leave work for the night when Will had come up from the warehouse. He was saying something about getting take-out on the way home, something from the greasy fast food place he loved and she didn’t very much like. It was then that everything she had been feeling just boiled over. The next day she had given him back her ring and she was out of their apartment by the time she went back to work on Monday.

Now that Jemma was newly single with an apartment all to herself, Friday nights had become stay-in nights, long soak in a hot bath with a book, catching up on episodes of her shows, and in bed at ten. As much as she informed her coworker, Daisy, of this, the customer service representative refused to accept Jemma’s insistence that she liked being by herself.

“Look, Jemma,” Daisy said, leaning on her crossed arms over the reception desk, “I know that you are post break-up with Will and that you miss Fitz, but I really think that going to Patrick’s with the rest of the office would be good for you. I know you like the beers they have on tap.”

Jemma spun the plastic phone cord around her fingers. Perhaps going to the old Irish pub would help her let off some steam and maybe it would also get Daisy off her back for a while. With an overemphasized puff of air, Jemma agreed to go. 

Daisy squealed with delight. “Oh, yay! Jemma, I promise you’ll have a blast! And Mack signed up to be designated driver if you don’t want to call a cab so you can drink all you want. And I heard there was some pretty juicy gossip floating about having to do with corporate. Once we’re out of earshot of Nathanson, maybe I’ll be able to get it out of someone. Oh, Jemma, this is going to be great!”

Despite the lightning fast speed with which Daisy communicated, Jemma was still able to take in what her friend was saying. Maybe it was better that she didn’t go home to an empty apartment and nothing to watch on the telly. Maybe she would finally be able to get her mind off of Fitz. 

* * *

Patrick’s Pub was a favorite of the employees of Playground Paper and had been for over fifty years. The bartender was the son of the original owner and had been taught to be especially kind to anyone hailing from the paper company. This meant that if enough of them showed up, drinks got cheaper, people got drunker and the owners of Patrick’s got paid.

Jemma hadn’t been to Patrick’s since just after Fitz had left. The first time she went without him had been surprisingly dull. There was no one to people watch with, so seeing her coworkers get more and more drunk was no longer as entertaining as it usually was when Fitz was there sitting next to her. When a very drunk Davis had gotten his head stuck in the wooden room divider, she had turned to her right only to find an empty stretch of red booth cushion. She hadn’t been to the pub since. 

“Piper just bought the whole office a round of beers,” Daisy said as she slid onto the bench across from Jemma. She had one drink out in front of her and the other nearing her lips as she bounced a few times to get comfortable.

“That’s very kind of her,” Jemma said, taking the chilled mug of beer once Daisy had slid it across the table. 

Daisy’s eyes narrowed a fraction and Jemma turned to look out at the bar. She knew what was coming before Daisy even spoke.

“Have you gotten any more information on the gossip you mentioned?” Jemma asked, cutting off the question she knew had been about to leave Daisy’s open mouth. She really didn’t feel like talking about Fitz. 

The flicker of curiosity in Daisy’s eyes quickly transformed as a wicked smile flooded her features. 

“Not yet, but it’s still early in the night. Now that everyone has had a round of free drinks, I’m sure information will soon begin to flow.”

Jemma grinned. “Let me know what you hear.”

The football match playing on the television roared in a crescendo and somewhere in the pub Hunter whooped. Distracted by the noise, Jemma’s reflexes were weakened and she missed her chance to fend off Daisy’s questioning.

“Have you talked to Fitz lately?”

Jemma didn’t answer right away, her head still turned out towards the bar but her eyes unfocused. 

“No,” she said, finally facing the table again. 

Daisy took her hands off the table and replaced them with her elbows, adjusting herself in her seat like she was forming a two person huddle. “What happened between you two. One minute you guys are as thick as thieves and the next Fitz avoids your desk like you’ve got the plague. I honestly thought one of you was sick or something and didn’t want to infect the other before Fitz announced he was leaving for the DC branch. And then I thought there would at least have been more of a goodbye between you two but you guys acted like it was any other day. I mean--” 

Daisy cut herself off, catching the clouds that had seemed to form in Jemma’s eyes. Jemma swallowed up the proceeding silence, taking deep breaths before responding. 

“It’s nothing, Daisy. He got a chance at a promotion and he took it. I’m proud of him. He deserves the recognition. As for what happened between us, I guess I just thought it would be better if I gave him his distance. Thought it would make it easier for the both of us when he left.”

“And did it?” 

Even if the lie were true, Jemma knew it wouldn’t have worked. She would have missed Fitz no matter what and no amount of training would make the miles between them now feel shorter.

Jemma smiled softly in a way she knew did nothing to fool Daisy and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah.”

With a little tilt of her head, Daisy drew her arms from off the table, breaking the huddle and somehow bringing back the noise of the bar. She turned her head to the side, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. 

“Oh, Deke’s got a Zima. Information is on the horizon,” she said, breaking the tension with one of her snooping smiles. “Be back in a minute.”

In one easy movement, Daisy slid out of the booth, leaving Jemma alone at the table. She was curious as to what was going on in the office. There had been quite a lot of talk and Maria Hill had been coming into the office far more than she normally did. It wasn’t unusual to see the corporate overseer of their branch as she often had to make trips to assure Phil was following management’s orders. Phil was a great boss but he didn’t love following instructions when he felt there was a better way of going about something. This meant many visitations from Maria but not as many as there had been in the past week. Whatever was going on, Jemma was certain Daisy would be the one to find out. The customer rep was nothing if not persistent. 

As she waited for her friend to return from coaxing out gossip from their coworkers, Jemma busied herself with a napkin, folding it and unfolding it as she looked about the pub. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, talking to one another, playing pool, or watching the football match on the old boxy television. The pub was nice and busy, the air warm and smelling of alcohol and the door continually opening and closing as more people arrived. With as packed as the tiny pub was, Jemma felt the booth she sat in was rather like a lonesome life raft, just floating in the ocean of people.

After ten minutes had passed, Daisy returned, plopping back down into the booth with very little grace and a rather unhappy expression.

“What did you find out?” 

Lips in a line and eyes more sober than they had been when she had left the booth, Daisy spilled. 

“I just heard from Deke who heard from Mack who got it from Hunter who was snooping on May and Phil that there may be a chance that our branch is closing.”

Jemma blinked blankly across the table, dropping her napkin down flat and covering it with her palms. 

“Wait, what?”

Daisy bit her lip. “I said that, by the looks of it, there's a chance that if we don’t boost our output by the end of the month management will be closing the Pittsburgh branch.”

“So,” Jemma said, looking away from her coworker so as to piece together her thoughts, “we might lose our jobs?”

“Yep,” Daisy said, popping the “p” before taking a swig of her drink. “Looks like Fitz left just in time.”

“Yeah,” Jemma said, feeling hollow and missing Fitz more than ever, “Just in time.”


	2. In Need of Repair

It didn’t take long for everyone in the office to hear the gossip. By Monday morning, people were not so much working as visiting each other’s desks or standing by the water cooler relaying what they knew. Jemma felt it kind of went against what their responses should have been, not working in the face of closing down due to slipping sales. However, she also knew that everyone was currently more in a panic than anything else. 

Jemma herself was still reeling from the information, trying to run scenarios in her head as to what she would do if the branch did in fact shut down, causing her to lose her job. She thought maybe she could move somewhere, find a lab to work in just like she and Fitz had so often dreamed about. They both had degrees that leaned towards careers in a lab--her in Biochemistry and him in Engineering--but had both taken a job at Playground Paper as a way of paying off their massive collection of student debt. Perhaps this branch shut down would be the thing to finally force her to swallow down her worry and live out her dream. Well, part of it anyway.

“Well, today is already bananas,” Daisy said, slamming her hands on Jemma’s desk.

Jemma smiled sympathetically. “Good morning, Daisy.”

“It’s still morning?” Daisy swung her head to the back wall of the office, noting the time and sighing. “God, feels like I’ve been here hours. And guess what? I just heard from Mack that we will probably be staying late the next few nights. Coulson should be calling a meeting soon to announce it. I’m sure everyone is going to be thrilled about that.” 

“Really?”

Daisy took a handful of jelly beans from the small container on Jemma’s desk. “Yep. I bet there will be more to the meeting, but that’s all the info I’ve gathered so far. Frickin’ crazy. What about you? How are you doing with all of this?”

Jemma shrugged her shoulders, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “As well as can be expected I guess.”

Daisy nodded sagely, grabbed another few jelly beans, and said she would see her later, leaving Jemma to sit and stare at her old computer screen. 

If she were being honest, Jemma didn’t really feel one particular way about the whole thing. On one hand, she was terrified about losing her job, especially just after getting her own place and trying to start on a new path. She also didn’t want people she worked with to be out of a job as well. On the other hand, she wasn’t overly fond of her job. It wasn’t many little girl’s dreams to become a receptionist and it definitely hadn’t been hers. If the branch went under or if they managed to keep it afloat, Jemma would just have to take it as it came. 

Phil called a meeting at two, causing everyone to get up and go sit in the conference room. Normally meetings were a cause of great disturbance to the whole of the office. They would all trudge into the room together like zombies, grumbling about how much work they had to do back at their desks, how asinine the meetings always were. Jemma normally never minded them. She and Fitz always claimed seats by the windows looking into the office. Fitz always had a pack of gum or some sort of candy in his pocket and they would sit together and pretend to listen while really counting down how long it took Hunter to nod off. 

“I give it ten minutes,” Fitz said once.

“Please Fitz. It’s something to do with finance today. I give it five.”

Today, however, Hunter was alert and Jemma was alone in the front middle.

“Alright,” Phil started once everyone was seated, “So, I’m guessing you all got wind of the branch shutting down.”

And just like that, the room was in a flurry. 

“Is it a definite thing?”

“What can we do?”

“Are we losing our jobs.”

Mack’s voice was the loudest, simply because it was deep and bounced off the boring brown walls the best. “Just tell us what’s going on, Phil.”

Jemma watched Phil compose himself, watched as he twisted his watch once around his wrist and inhaled. For the briefest of moments, Jemma saw that Phil was in the same boat as all of them. Only he had so much more to lose. Suddenly, Jemma hoped there was a way to save the branch.

Finally, Phil opened his mouth, quieting the room instantly. “The company is in a downturn currently,” he said. “But, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a secret to anybody. From what Maria has told me, the company is looking to downsize meaning that by the end of the month they are going to have to shut down the two least profitable branches. Our branch, along with Lancaster, Scranton, and Buffalo are all in the red zone.”

“So,” Deke piped up, raising his hand, “is there a way for us to get out of the red zone?”

“As awful as it sounds, we just need to have better sales than everyone else who have been issued warnings.”

“And if we don’t?” Hunter asked.

A somber look flicked behind Phil’s eyes. “Then some of us get laid off and others go to work in a succeeding branch.”

The room went cold and Jemma could feel another flurry coming.

“You mean sales,” Raina, the head accountant, said. “Sales will be absorbed by another branch and the rest of us will be laid off.”

Phil shook his head, clearly showing that that was not what he had meant. But Raina looked as far from swayed as one could get. 

“What branch would we be absorbed by?” Bobbi asked, cutting through the tension in the room.

“I’m not sure, but I’m hoping that if we stay late a few nights we won’t have to be absorbed by anyone.”

Jemma winced as the room went dead silent, awaiting the explosion. 

“Work late?”

“How late are we talking, Phil? For how long?”

“Is that even going to help?”

“Are we needed if we aren't in sales?”

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose and Jemma silently raised her hand.

"Yes, Jemma?” he asked, loud enough to hush up the majority of the exclamations echoing around the room. 

“What kind of work would you need us to be doing? If we aren’t in the sales department, how can we help?”

A flicker of a smile lit up her boss’s face and Jemma returned it gladly.

“Thank you for asking, Jemma. So, here’s my plan.”

* * *

When the clock ticked over to five o’clock, it seemed like every eye was watching its hands. Overtime had begun. Slowly but surely, everyone started moving towards their assigned projects. Accounting began looking through boxes of old tax returns, billing receipts, bank statements, and the like. Meanwhile, sales began devising ways to increase their overall revenue, looking at accounts who would be renewing soon, accounts they could gain, accounts they had to assure they kept. Anyone who wasn’t tied to money simply had to help where they could. Jemma was in charge of shredding and filing as organization was a strong suit of hers. Looking over how everything was sorted, Jemma was in shock at the state of it all and was more than happy to get her hands on the label maker. 

The night ticked on and at some point someone had made a pot of coffee. Jemma, not liking coffee to begin with let alone what came from the communal grounds in the kitchen, made herself a pot of tea in the little blue teapot Fitz had gotten her for Christmas. As she poured herself a cuppa, adding the proper amount of milk and sugar, she couldn’t help but allow her mind to drift to him. This whole working late thing would have been so much more fun with him there. He would have found some game to play or some way to keep from falling asleep. At the very least, she would have had someone to share her tea with. She had gotten so used to boiling enough water for the two of them that she had brewed far too much for just herself to drink.

When Jemma returned to her desk, her hands wrapped tightly around her warm mug of tea, she saw that Mack was standing at the copy machine.

“How are things in sales going?” Jemma asked, slipping past him to come sit in her rolly chair.

Mack gave a half smile as he clicked a series of buttons on the copier. “As good as we can be. Trying to save the branch one account at a time is proving as hard as we expected.”

Jemma nodded, her head tilted slightly to one side. “Well, if anyone can pull it off it’s all of you. You all could save the world if you had to.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he picked up his stack of papers. 

“If anything saves this company, Jemma, it’s your hope.”

At that, Mack turned and walked back to his desk, leaving Jemma to confusedly swallow down the tightness that had clenched her throat.

After hours of leafing through papers and going through a whole roll of label paper, the office finally started to slow down. As everyone started to trickle out, Phil stood by the door. He clapped a few people on the shoulder, nodded to every person, and wished everyone a good night.

“Great work everyone,” he said. “Have a great night.”

“You bringin’ bagels in the morning, boss?” Daisy asked as she flounced past, giving Phil a wide grin.

“Good night, Daisy.”

From his spot at the door, Phil turned his head and looked over to Jemma. 

“Are you heading out?” he asked.

“In a bit. I just need to get my stuff,” she replied.

“Well, have a great night. And thank you.”

With a final nod, Phil returned to his office., Jemma grabbed her coat and purse. She slung the strap over her shoulder and leaned across her desk to turn off her computer. It was then that the phone rang with its characteristic electronic brrring sound. 

Sitting in her chair with a twirl, she put the plastic receiver up to her ear and spoke her normal greeting. “Playground Paper, this is Jemma.”

“Jemma?”

Her stomach hollowed out and her breath caught in her throat, her eyebrows rising to her hairline. 

“Oh my god. Fitz.”

“Jemma,” he said again, his unmistakable accent curling around her name like a blanket curling around a body or a flame curling around a match. 

“Hi,” she said.

“H-hi,” he said.

“What are--”

“I was just--”

“Did you--”

“Oh, I--”

Jemma bit her lip as their voices overlapped. They were out of sync and it made her throat constrict. She bit down harder on her bottom lip in an attempt to stop herself from doing it again. 

“I forgot Hunter’s extension. Needed it for a football thing,” Fitz finally said, filling in the silence her lip biting had left. 

“Oh?”

She heard him take a shuddery breath. “I was just going to go through the automatic system. I didn’t know you would still be working. Why are you still working?”

“Phil was having us stay late for...something.” Jemma wasn’t sure how much the other branches knew and it was admittedly odd to have to keep something from Fitz. Willing away the lead like feeling in her stomach, she turned the question back to him. “What about you? Why are you still at work? What time is it there?”

“What time is it?” he chuckled, but it could have just been him breathing. “Simmons, we’re in the same time zone. How far did you think we were?”

“I don’t know, far.”

He laughed again, as light as the wind, and it lifted some of the weight that had held her down. She had missed that laugh and the smile she could picture in her head.

There was a large breath crackling through the line. “Yeah,” he said, “it felt far to me too.”

Jemma picked up a paperclip from her stationery organizer. “So, how are you liking DC? Been to any museums?”

“It’s alright, but no, no museums. We had a deal, remember? We’d go to the museums together.”

Jemma’s nose itched and she blinked rapidly. “Yes, I remember. I just didn’t know--”

“I would never forget something like that.”

At the same time and completely in sync, they both emptied their lungs. And though Jemma couldn’t see him, she thought they grinned at the same time as well.

“Want to hear something funny?” Jemma asked.

“Always.” 

“So, the other night the office all went out to Patrick’s,” she started, cutting herself off with a giggle. “And guess what?”

“What?” he asked, chuckling himself.

“Davis went and got his head stuck.”

“What? Stuck where?”

“Between the wooden beams. The ones at the entrance.”

“Bloody hell. How did he manage to get out?”

“I’m not sure, but I think butter was involved. Piper was carrying some and walking in his direction when I left at least.”

Fitz let out a crackled bark of laughter. 

“Other than Piper buttering Davis up, how is everyone else in the office?”

Jemma shrugged and let out a little um hmm sound.

“You know I can’t see you shrugging over the phone, Jems. I need an in-dialogue response.”

“No, you do not. You knew that I was shrugging,” she countered. 

“Fair enough.”

“And besides, my um hmm sound was an in-dialogue response.”

That got a laugh and she imagined him shaking his head. Shaking his head and smiling, perhaps looking up through his lashes. Jemma shook her own head as she sat back in her chair. 

“How about you?” she asked. “How are you doing?”

There was a rustling. “Well, I haven’t learned much about my coworkers but I do know my boss’s favorite word.”

“Oh really? Do tell,” she coaxed, uncrossing her legs and leaning over her desk like he was in front of her.

“Trust.”

“Trust?”

“Trust. Did you know that a team that trusts is a team that triumphs?”

Jemma giggled. Fitz had said the obviously heavily repeated phrase with a thick American accent. “I did not know that. So glad I do now. And do you trust your team?”

“Oh, of course, Jems. That’s why I am so triumphant.”

Before Jemma knew it, she and Fitz had been talking for half an hour. As their words passed easily and they told each other stories and life updates and general goings on, it was as though no time had passed. It was as if he had never left.

“And then--oh, Fitz it was awful--I nearly swung the fire extinguisher right onto Phil’s head.”

Fitz was laughing so hard on the other end of the phone that Jemma had to put a good deal of effort into not laughing as well.

“Simmons, why did you pick up the fire extinguisher in the first place? You knew it was just a robbery drill.”

“Because Daisy told me to.”

“Of all the people in the office to listen to, Daisy is like half way down the list.”

“Oh, and what’s the order of this list?” Jemma asked.

“Well,” he started, “you’re at the top.”

“Naturally.”

“Well, Deke is definitely at the bottom--”

“Fitz,” Jemma chided. 

“Come on, Jems, you know he is.”

“Well, who is after me?”

“Mack. Or Phil. Phil then Mack? After either Mack or Phil, probably May. I think after May--”

Jemma didn’t hear who was after May as the real life Phil stepped out of his office. 

“You’re still here?” he asked.

Jemma nodded and pointed to the phone at her ear.

Phil gave her a closed mouth smile, tilting his head in her direction and giving her a small wave goodnight.

“Oh, goodbye,” Jemma called, waving and forgetting the phone was still up to her ear, the speaker uncovered next to her mouth.

“Oh,” Fitz said, cutting himself off, “yeah. I should probably go too--”

“Oh, no. Fitz, I--”

“It’s late.”

“You have to go?”

“I mean I--”

“Yeah, I should be heading home.”

“Okay.”

Air trapped in her lungs and she put the side of her thumb in her mouth, biting the skin around her nail. 

“Okay,” she said, voice strained as she lowered her thumb away from her teeth. “Goodnight Fitz.”

“Goodnight Jemma.”

There was a click on the other end of the line and suddenly all the distance between them returned. All the miles, all the days he had been gone. The shared memory of a dark office on Casino Night. All sitting within the many miles. 

Jemma sat for a moment, listening to the dial tone humm in her ear, before she finally put the phone back in its place. She stood, picked up her purse from where she had set it on her desk, straightened her coat, and walked out of the office alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has left such kind comments expressing their excitement for this fic! I am excited too and so I apologize if it takes me a bit to update this story. The world is wild currently but I am trying my best. Thank you all for being lovely! 💕


	3. A Team that Trusts

It was two weeks of late nights before the Wednesday of truth rolled around. That morning was a surprisingly quiet one. There were a few hellos, a few good mornings, but there were no rumors and there was no visiting. Everyone came into the office, sat at their desks, and got to work. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the amount of time they had all spent together, or maybe they had all collectively moved to a contemplative state of mind after weeks of worrying. It could also have been that the topic of losing their jobs had gone from worrisome to terrifyingly possible. Whatever the reason, that morning at the Pittsburgh branch was nearly silent, the ticking of the clock and the ringing of phones the loudest sounds in the room.

Over the weeks of late nights, Jemma felt as though the office was making progress. Their sales had gone up, their space was more organized, and they were acting more like a team. There was something unifying in their shared, somewhat nerve wracking, position. They all had a chance of losing their jobs and being sent on their merry way with severance packages, and the knowledge of this possible outcome had only brought them closer together as human beings. Closer as a team. Even the idea that some of them would be transferred to another company rather than fired couldn’t pull them apart. Being transferred still meant uprooting completely and moving to a building of entirely new people. For many of the sales team, it felt as jarring as getting a new job. It would be secure, but secure and terrifying.

Even knowing that she would be out of a job if the branch closed, Jemma still struggled with how she felt about it all. Part of her would not be that upset. There were memories laced into the walls of the office that she wouldn’t mind leaving. However, she knew they would follow her no matter where she went. That, and she had developed a fierce and close loyalty to her coworkers that would have her fighting for the branch until the bitter end.

After her relatively brief conversation with Fitz over the phone, an unsettling feeling had landed in her gut and she found that it was rather hard for her to focus on any of the emotions roiling in her stomach. After everything that had happened, everything that was left unsaid, the phone call reminded her all that she missed. Because she missed Fitz. 

For the first month after he had left she had told herself it was normal to miss him. They were best friends. It was normal to miss your best friend, to wish to see them every day again. To expect to see them like normal only to find an empty desk. But as the days went on, Jemma started to get that sinking feeling that perhaps she was more than just missing her best friend. 

When he had left, it had been like water slipping through her fingers. There had been none of him to grasp onto. She remembered the feel of his sweater on her fingertips, the cotton blend that absorbed his cologne nicely slipping away, the seam she had grasped before he had let her go. When he had pulled away, it had been the last time she had looked her in the eye. The blue gaze had locked onto her, searching for something in the depths of her own brown irises. He had obviously found something that broke his heart, because after he looked only at his shoes, the ground, or somewhere beyond her she couldn’t herself reach. Even as he said goodbye that final day, the last glance he had given her over his shoulder had hit the wall instead of her. He was gone to her in that faraway moment during Casino Night, the moment his eyes hit the ground and his fingers slipped away from her. The moment she had turned him down. 

Now the branch was closing and Fitz was long gone, safe at a successful branch. It killed her that she secretly wished that it was the DC branch that was closing and not theirs. Just thinking such a thing made her skin crawl with guilt, like worms crawling on a casket. But she couldn’t help it. Maybe if it was his branch they would transfer him back. Maybe if it was his branch she could say everything she wanted to say to him. But, that wasn’t how life worked. People would still lose their jobs beyond just Fitz and there would be a chance that he would turn down a transfer anyway. He did leave after all, for more reasons--as Jemma knew--than a pay increase.

From nine in the morning to about noon, Jemma went back and forth between taking calls and pretending to pay attention to whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. For the most part, she just watched Phil in his office. He was restless, sitting on his desk and playing with a toy convertible Corvette. That or he simply wandered aimlessly about the small space, wearing a pattern into the old carpet. Jemma was sure he was waiting for the same news they all were, after all his job was on the line too, but his shoulders had a slump to them that was beyond just being from nerves. She wished there was a way she could lighten the weight that bore them down, but all she could do was watch his pacing and be patient.

Jemma was drawing water molecules on a sticky note when Maria Hill arrived in the office. The corporate overseer was intimidating on a good day, but when she held knews as serious and as important as the closing of their branch she was downright terrifying. Her hair was up tight in a twist and the heels she wore added height to her already tall stature, making it feel like she was looking down upon Jemma as she stood before her desk. However, her tone was kind enough, if a little brisk. 

“Hello, Maria,” Jemma started, shoving her doodle behind her computer monitor. 

“Hi, Jemma. Phil free?”

Jemma could only nod once before Maria had turned on her heel and marched into Phil’s office. At the short hello, Jemma decided brisk was an accurate word for Maria Hill.

“What’s going on?” Davis asked, coming to stand by the copier. 

“I don’t know, Davis,” Jemma said.

“Is it about the branch closing?”

“I don’t know.”

Jemma was trying to see through the slightly open blinds that covered the windows of Phil’s office. She didn’t even have to look out at the rest of the office to know she wasn’t the only one spying.

Maria had her back to the blinds. The lines on the back of her blazer and her tight updo couldn’t exactly give an insight as to what she was saying--or how exactly she was saying it--but Phil’s face said enough. A feeling similar to ice water being poured down one’s back flooded Jemma’s nervous system. A crease that had formed between Coulson’s brows deepened, the lines on his forehead sank down his face. Even behind his glasses, it was obvious the light that normally resided in his eyes had gone dark. 

“Do you think--”

“Davis, shush.”

She hadn’t meant to be rude, but Maria had shifted the way she sat in her chair and Coulson’s face had fallen completely. He took off his glasses and put his face in his hands. The ice water in Jemma’s viens froze solid. 

“I have to get on a call with DC,” Maria said. She had opened the door, finishing her sentence over her shoulder as Phil walked her out. “Corporate will be in touch.”

Phil nodded, his hand extended towards the exit and his eyes trained on the floor. In three long, graceful strides, Maria exited the room. Everyone gave it a few moments, the amount of time it would take for her to reach the elevator, before erupting into chaos. 

“Phil, what’s going on?” Bobbi said, moving from her desk to sit on Hunter’s.

“What did she say?” Deke questioned.

“Is the branch closing?”

“Are we losing our jobs?”

“What’s happening?”

With his head ducked low and his shoulders even more hunched then they had been earlier, Phil tried to walk back into his office. Jemma assumed whatever he and Maria had been talking about it wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge yet. However, even with his hand on the doorknob, Phil suddenly made a face that led Jemma to think he had changed his mind about escaping. In fact, it was the familiar face of Coulson resolutely deciding upon something. Instead of opening the door, he stared at the black metal doorframe. Apparently he had found everything he needed in it because with a deep sigh he turned around. 

“Well,” he said, drawing in the corners of his lips as his hands slapped against his thighs, “corporate has come up with a plan.”

There was a chorus of confusion that Phil silenced with the raising of his palm. 

“It turns out they are cutting three branches instead of two.”

“Which three?” Mack asked. He was leaning far back in his chair, but his face was anything but relaxed. 

“Buffalo, Lancaster, and Scranton.”

“And us?” Jemma said timidly, a small light of hope rising in her chest.

Phil opened his mouth and then shut it, scratched his eyebrow and sighed before sadly shaking his head. The light that had bloomed quickly dimmed, leaving Jemma to frown at her keyboard.

“They’re dismantling our branch.”

Jemma expected there to be the usual uproar, maybe some swearing or stapler throwing—why stapler throwing came to mind, she couldn’t say. But there wasn’t any of it. Instead there was silence, silence that was far deeper than it had been that morning. No one spoke, no phones rang, and it seemed that time had stopped, for not even the clock could be heard ticking in the weight of it all. 

“I know this isn’t worth much now,” Phil said, moving farther away from his office, “but Maria made it a point to tell me just how impressed corporate was by the improvement in our numbers.”

“Then why are they closing us down?” Hunter’s voice was sharp, cutting through the silence in a way that left Jemma feel close to tears.

“They looked at the big picture,” he said. There was something bitter in the way he said it.

“What the hell does that mean?” Mack said.

Phil crossed his arms in front of himself. “It means that they save more money mashing a bunch of branches together.”

From over the divider wall that separated reception and accounting, Jemma heard Raina scoff. “And laying people off. That’s how they are saving money, by paying less people.”

Phil just nodded. The lines in his face refused to fade.

Jemma scooted forward in her chair, bringing her hands up to the higher level of her desk where people usually came to stand. “Did she say anything else? Maria.”

“She said that corporate would be in touch. They’re still working out the logistics.”

“Like who is getting laid off and who is transfering,” Raina said. 

Phil pointed in her direction as an indicator of her statements' correctness. 

“What branch will ours be combined with?” Bobbi asked.

“I don’t know. But she said she had to talk to the DC branch.”

Jemma couldn’t look at Coulson anymore, or any of the office really. Instead, she looked at the sticky note she had shoved just behind her keyboard. She knew that she would not be getting transfered, the DC branch didn’t need two secretaries. But still, how fitting it was that they would be combining Pittsburgh with the DC branch. Fitz had simply been ahead of his time. 

In a dark corner in her mind, Jemma felt relief on Fitz’s part that she wouldn’t be a transfer person. How silly she had been to think he would transfer back if the tables had been turned. She let herself see it clearly now. He had left because of her, because of what she had said--or rather what she hadn’t. Now, the best thing for him was that they were apart. He probably would have been upset to see her walk through the DC door. It broke her heart to think such a way, but she just couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the weight of the silence that allowed her to think it.

* * *

**_In DC_ **

Fitz had been called in by Mace for some video conference something or other. Back in Pittsburgh he had rarely been in Phil’s office. The only times he really remembered were the times he had been called in for something to do with sales records and things or because of a prank he had pulled on Deke. Of course, there had also been the final time when he had informed Phil of his transfer. The whole experience was sort of a blur. In fact, he most remembered that it had taken everything in him not to grab something off the desk to fiddle with. He had given his reasons, not quite meeting Phil’s eyes, and thanked him for being a good boss. He had raised his eyes for the last part, wanting to make it known just how genuine he was about that. 

Now, with his new title and position in the DC branch, it felt like he was in Mace’s office as much as at his own desk. He kept getting called in for something asinine and annoying or things that could have just been said in an email. Mace wasn’t a big fan of emails, though. He wanted everything to be said face to face as a way of building trust.

A team that trusts is a team that triumphs. 

Whenever he said that little maxim, Fitz had to hold his composure. Often he found himself looking around to see if anyone else was holding in a laugh, but found no one. Everyone in the office seemed to take the saying seriously and the stony looks on their faces made him miss Jemma even more. He hadn’t really made any friends at his new branch. All the people he had met remained in the category of coworker. It all just added to missing Jemma.

Fitz didn’t really need a reason to miss her. No matter what, he always just sort of did. It lingered in his mind no matter what his brain was focused on. He could be mid sentence, on a very important sales call, and he would be reminded of something she had said and his heart would just collapse. He told himself it would go away, that distance was the answer, but after accidently connecting with her on the phone it was clear that it wasn’t going to. No, he thought, he would be missing Jemma Simmons for the rest of his life.

Walking into Mace’s office, Fitz tried to wipe his ex (it hurt him to think of it like that) best friend from his mind. The office was large with windows lining the back wall. It was bright and clean, photos of the DC area filling up the grey walls.  _ Just look out the window,  _ Fitz thought whenever he studied one of these pictures. It was like he had jumped into an American textbook or perhaps the opening intro of the show  _ The West Wing _ . 

“Fitz,” Mace greeted loudly, standing up from his desk, “so glad you’re here. Come sit.”

Without saying anything, Fitz found his spot in the chair across from his boss. The chair was slightly lower than Mace’s and it never failed to piss Fitz off. What a strange power move.

“Umm, sir,” Fitz said, positioning himself a bit further back in his chair, “can I ask why I was called into your office.”

Mace lifted his hands out to his sides. “Of course. That’s a perfectly reasonable question. I didn’t mean to be so covert about the whole thing but corporate likes things to be kept a bit more hush hush.”

“Yes, sir, I understand.” 

Fitz did understand, but it was also something to get used to. Phil never really stuck closely to corporate’s hush hush mentality. 

Mace grinned brightly. With a smile like his, dimples and pulled back cheeks and high eyebrows, he would have made a very good politician. Fitz bet he would make a better politician than he would the manager of a paper company branch. Yet, there was something in that particular politician smile that felt even more forced than usual. If Fitz was correct, Mace almost looked nervous. 

“Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “as my number two, I have been told to bring you in on this very important call with Maria Hill. You know Maria right?”

“Yes. She was the one who informed me of this job.”

“Right, yes, of course. Then that gets clunky introductions out of the way.”

Fitz sat up straighter. “I still don’t know what this meeting is about though.”

Mace’s face went tight. “She said it had something to do with the branches that are closing.” 

A seed of anxiety planted itself in Fitz’s stomach. Whatever news Mace had been informed of about branches closing, Fitz had not been told of it. More proof that his boss was a strict abider of the hush hush rule.

“There are branches that are closing?” he asked, trying his best to sound casual. 

“Yes.”

“Do you know which ones?”

Mace shrugged, looking at his computer to start the online meeting and not at Fitz as he rattled them off. “Scranton, Lancaster, and Buffalo are all shut down completely.”

“Completely?” Fitz said, confused by the wording. “Are there branches that are only being partly shut down. 

Mace fixed his tie, patting it down against his shirt three times before returning his hands to the keyboard. “Maria said something special is happening with Pittsburgh. That’s what this meeting is about. I believe she’s bringing you up to speed.”

The seed of anxiety that had rooted in his stomach shot up and bloomed into a whole blown tree. Fitz didn’t even bother to wonder why he needed to be brought up to speed. His heart had stopped at the mention of Pittsburgh.

“Pitt-Pittsburgh? What’s happening with Pittsburgh?” he said, his fingers starting to fidget. Now Fitz couldn’t help but think of Jemma. Was she okay? Were they going to fire her? But his mind also jumped to Phil and Mack; to Bobbi and Hunter; to Deke, Davis, Daisy and May. To everyone who he worked with, even those he couldn’t necessarily call friends. He still cared about them. After all, no matter how much he refused to admit it, his heart was still in Pittsburgh. 

Mace cleared his throat and fixed his already straight tie. He moved the computer to the far end of his desk, turning it so both he and Fitz could see. 

“I’ll let Maria explain it to you,” he said. 

There was a brief dial tone as the call connected, but Fitz could barely hear it. It took Maria actually saying his name to bring him out of his own head.

“Fitz? Is my audio working?”

“Yes, sorry,” he startled, sitting on the edge of his chair. “Hello.”

Maria was not one to exchange pleasantries--brisk was the word to describe her, he thought--and so she just powered on with the purpose of the meeting. 

“So, Fitz, to catch you up with what has been happening, corporate has decided to close the three least profitable East Coast branches. Now, instead of having multiple branches, we are going to combine the two remaining branches into one large branch called Playground Atlantic. Mace here will be managing said branch and Fitz, if you would like it, we were planning to give you the number two position.”

Fitz blinked as his thoughts rushed to connect to his tongue, but before he could even open his mouth to speak, Mace suddenly moved closer to the computer, his chair squeaking as he did so. 

“Actually, Maria, there’s something I need to inform you of.”

Maria’s precisely plucked eyebrow rose in a question. Fitz could actually hear Mace swallow his nerves. So, he had been nervous, Fitz thought.

“I have actually been offered a high level management position at Nadeer Inc.”

There was silence on both ends. 

“Wait,” Maria said slowly, her voice so filled with anger that the connection between their computers crackled with her trying to contain it, “Are you saying that you leveraged our offer for a job at a rival company?”

Fitz was glad Mace at least had the decency to look guilty. 

“Yes,” he said. He wasn’t looking at the computer screen, at Maria or Fitz. His eyes were fixed on the keyboard.

A position at Playground Paper was not Fitz’s dream job. If he were being honest, he wasn’t sure exactly how he had even gotten where he was. It could be boring at times, monotonous, dull, but it had been good to him. At the Pittsburgh branch, he had had an almost family. They saw each other for eight hours a day, sometimes more, and they survived those hours of tedious boredom together. Watching Mace straighten his shoulders and move in his seat, Fitz suddenly felt a fierce loyalty to his old branch lick through his veins. Say what they will about Phil Coulson; about how he could be rash at times, how he occasionally disobeyed corporate; but he would never do what Mace had just done. In that moment, Fitz both could have knocked Mace stupid and given Phil Coulson a hug.

Instead, he simply balled his hands into fists and held his composure, sitting straight as a board in his seat. He kept his face as passive as he could, fighting off the anger boiling in him. 

On the screen, Maria pinched the bridge of her nose, undoubtedly fighting off the same anger as Fitz. “Jeffrey, you realize that this entire plan hinged on you.”

“I am aware, yes.”

“And you--humph--okay. I’m going to need to make a few phone calls and scream into the void for a moment. Please stay where you are, I’ll be calling you in a few minutes. Excuse me.”

Without even uttering a goodbye, Maria hung up the phone, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake. Fitz rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to look Mace in the face as he stood up from his chair. Mace stayed sitting behind his desk, his face still stiff and his shoulders squared. Again, Fitz was reminded of a politician. He wasn’t a bad guy, Fitz tried to remind himself--it was how he kept his fists at his sides and not colliding with his boss’s face--but what he had just done was without a doubt an asshole move.

Leaning against the door of Mace’s office, Fitz waited in silence with his eyes trained on a poster of the Washington monument. Twenty minutes later, the computer was ringing with a call from Maria.

“So, thanks to the curveball you threw at us, it looks like Pittsburgh will be absorbing DC. Fitz, I know that you have just left there, but the position as number two still stands. We will be sending out job notices to the rest of the branch as soon as Monday. Those leaving will get a substantial severance package. Fitz, please think about it and let me know as soon as possible.”

She hung up before either of them could respond. Still staring ahead at one of Mace’s posters, Fitz had the strangest desire to laugh. Guess his little maxim had been right. Mace had broken everyone’s trust, and they definitely weren’t feeling very triumphant. 

* * *

No work was getting done in the Pittsburgh branch. With the discovery that the branch was being shut down, most people had gone into a state of unmoving contemplation. Sales was taking the occasional call, but mostly they were sitting at their desks. Hunter had his feet up as he talked to Bobbi, who was not at her own desk but was sitting on the corner of his. Mack was playing solitaire on his computer, pausing only to answer his phone, and Deke was circumnavigating around the sales desks in his chair while focusing on the speckled ceiling tiles. Meanwhile, Accounting was betting on how many M&M’s Davis could fit in his mouth, Piper betting thirty and Raina refusing to play. May had emerged from the annex and was talking with Phil in his office and Daisy had come up as well, striking up a conversation with Elena and Joey over in Supplier Relations and Quality Assurance. Jemma sat alone at her desk. She had moved on from doodling water molecules on sticky notes and had started sketching out whatever came to mind on a pad of paper. For some reason, it was monkeys. She wasn’t as good of an artist as Fitz, his engineering designs works of art in their own right, but he had taught her a fair few techniques. She was doodling goggles on one of her primates when Maria Hill came marching back into the office.

Maria’s hair was less done up than it had been before, the sleek up-do frizzing in places and the energy around her seemed to crackle with frustration. Yet, in spite of her slightly disheveled appearance, Maria was none the less intimidating.

“What is going on?” Maria asked, noticing Deke’s orbit and Hunter’s reclined chair. Jemma spotted Mack quickly closing down his solitaire tab.

“We know about the branch closing,” Bobbi explained. 

With a great heaving of her shoulders, Maria rubbed at her forehead. “Dammit, Phil.” She turned to Jemma. “Where is he.”

“He’s in his office,” Jemma replied carefully, pointing over her desk towards his shut blinds. “I can call him out here if you n--”

“Yes. Thank you, Jemma.”

Quickly dialing his extension, Jemma called him out of the office. He emerged moments later with May on his heels.

“Maria, what brings you back.”

“You told your branch about our meeting,” she said briskly. Phil opened his mouth, sound barely escaping before Maria cut him off. “You know what, it’s been a long day and I don’t even really care that you told them anymore. At least you cared enough to want to be honest.”

She still had a hand on her forehead, rubbing at her temples and Jemma was taken aback by just how worn out she appeared to be. Whatever had happened, it had obviously made for one hell of a day. Moving her hands to her hips, Maria’s voice regained its usual power, falling over the office with an almost booming quality. She looked quite like a judge presiding over court. 

“Your branch is not closing,” she said, waiting just a moment for the office to gasp. “DC is closing and will be absorbed by Pittsburgh.”

Jemma’s heart leaped out of her chest and into her throat making it so she couldn’t breathe for a moment. However, no one was looking at her so no one noticed. They all continued to stare with wide eyes at Maria. 

“What happened?” Phil asked.

A look of great displeasure pulled at the skin around Maria’s lips and eyes. But all she said was, “a lot.”

“Do--” Jemma cleared her throat, “Do you know who will be coming back to Pittsburgh?”

Maria raised an eyebrow, huffing a confused, “Back?”

“ _ To _ Pittsburg,” Jemma hastily corrected, “Coming to Pittsburgh?”

“We haven’t made final decisions.” Maria adjusted her coat and swiped away a non existent hair from off her face. “I did want to inform you that the corporate was very proud of the improvement in your sales and overall branch work ethic. It did not go unnoticed.” She turned to Phil with the closest thing to a smile Jemma had ever witnessed falling on her face. “And Phil, corporate also wanted to thank you for your loyalty and leadership.”

Phil looked touched and slightly dumbfounded. “Thank you,” he said, his voice tight. Jemma watched as the weight of the world slipped slightly off his shoulders, replaced by May’s steady hand.

“Now,” Maria finished, looking about the office, “I suggest you all get back to work and Phil, I will inform you of the logistics tomorrow. Goodbye everyone.”

There was a chorus of slightly still shocked farewells as Maria left the office. For the second time that day, the office waited with bated breath for Maria to reach the elevators. Once enough time had passed, the tension broke with a loud whoop. Cheers erupted around the office, people hugged and shook hands. Jemma smiled brightly, tucking away her doodle. She would keep her job after all. And while her mind enjoyed the celebration, her heart thought of Fitz.

* * *

As the clock ticked closer to closing time, Fitz stared at his black computer monitor for several minutes, his hand gripping the receiver of his phone. He didn’t pick it up, simply laid his hand there and stared into the great beyond. Slowly he let them drift across his desk. He didn’t have much on it. He had his computer and phone, both obviously provided for him, a photo of him and his mum, and a candy jar Jemma had given him during the office Christmas exchange. He had given her a small blue teapot in return, along with a couple different boxes of tea she liked. Tea that she had shared with him.

“But it’s your gift,” he had said, gently tucking the tea bag back into her hand. 

“So I can do with it as I please. And besides, Fitz, I would hate to let you subject yourself to the god awful pot of coffee.”

Smiling at the memory of Jemma, a sudden feeling poured over him like a bucket of ice water. Could he go back to Pittsburgh or did it still hurt too much? Then he thought of what had happened only hours before in Mace’s office and how in that moment he had missed Pittsburgh. He missed his friends, his old job--as silly as that felt to admit. He missed Jemma. And missing her hurt so much more than seeing her, he decided. And hadn’t that phone call the other night--not counting its awkward bookends--been a moment of pure happiness. They had talked like nothing had changed. And of course things had changed, but nothing that couldn’t be moved on from. Right?

Before he could think himself into a spiral, Fitz broke out of his stupor and quickly picked up the phone, punching in the number with a little too much force. It rang three times before the voice spoke.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Maria,” he said, leaning onto his elbows “this is Fitz. I’d like to take the job in Pittsburgh.”


	4. A Lukewarm Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse as to why this is so late. I'm just sorry. Anyhoo, hope you enjoy and thank you all for being so wonderful and lovely and the absolute best! 💕

That morning, Jemma had taken extra care while getting ready. Whether she did it consciously or subconsciously (most likely half and half) she couldn’t quite tell. Either way, she picked out her outfit with a far more careful eye, did her hair in wavy curls, and made herself a thermos of her favorite tea for a bit of an extra morning boost.

After nearly a month of “working out the details” as Phil called it, the employees of the DC branch were finally coming to Pittsburgh. It was a week ago that Tuesday that Phil had gotten the final list of transfers. The whole office had gathered at the end of the workday to hear Phil read off the names. It wasn’t just Jemma that awaited answers as to who was coming to Pittsburgh, or more specifically who was coming back. It had been a popular topic of conversation and Jemma had heard the name _ Fitz _ whispered all about the office. 

“Well?” Daisy had said, perched on the corner of Mack’s desk with her arms crossed. 

Phil had rubbed his hands together, enjoying having captured everyone’s excitement. He listed out the names one by one until finally, he reached the bottom of the memo.

“And,” he said, drawing it out just a tad longer than he needed to. Phil enjoyed a bit of theatrics. “Fitz is coming back.”

Everyone had been delighted at the news. They had all missed Fitz. It wasn’t as though he had been lost in space or anything, but even just the distance between DC and Pittsburgh had been enough to cause them to miss the salesman.

Of course, they were all also excited to meet the other transfers. Nervous and excited, Jemma thought. The idea of change within the office was somewhat daunting. They had all cultivated a tight bond during the “what if the branch closes” era of the office, and so everybody had become reasonably protective of the place. It was easy to be a bit on edge about the whole ordeal, but they were also trying to be as welcoming as possible. At least, Jemma planned on being as welcoming as possible.

Her thermos of tea in hand and a new pair of white trainers on her feet, Jemma walked into the office with an excited spring in her step. Not even the early morning rain could dampen her spirits. Sure, new faces were nerve wracking, but she had always been pretty good at making friends. And seeing an old friend after a long time apart always made one happy. Right?

“Ready for the new recruits?” Phil asked, walking up to Jemma’s desk. 

Jemma smiled, nodding her head towards the doored-off galley kitchen that separated the main office from the annex. She had gone out the day before to purchase the cheese and fruit platters, crackers, and the non-alcoholic sparkling cider like Phil had asked. The majority of the day would be spent as a sort of “get to know you” day, or, as Mack had labeled it,  _ the first day of school.  _

“Everything is purchased and ready to be laid out. I’ll get the conference room set up once the rest of the party committee is here,” Jemma informed. 

Phil tapped her desk and smiled. “Great! Do you know if Daisy and Joey made those gift bags?”

“I don’t sir, but Joey should be here soon. And if not Daisy or Joey, Raina should know.”

Taking a jelly bean from the container on Jemma’s desk and giving her a thumbs up, Phil departed towards his office. It was still very early in the morning and most people hadn’t arrived at work yet. Slowly but surely they started to enter, the door swinging open and people putting away their coats. Every time a person came in Jemma looked up with a hopeful and nervous fluttering somewhere in her rib cage. It was only after Daisy had come into the office, bundled up in her rain jacket and mid-conversation with Mack, that Jemma remembered the new people were coming an hour later. The later start time had been a nice little idea of May’s, giving the new people time to find the building and start their day off right. It also conveniently doubled as a time for the office to get ready for their new arrivals. It was almost like they were putting on a ball or party of some kind, like Cinderella. The thought made Jemma laugh as she set up the conference room. 

“How do you feel?” Daisy asked her, watching as Jemma laid out the tablecloth. Daisy had come to help put out the cheese platters and things and was now leaning against the conference room wall, plate in hand.

Jemma smoothed out the cheap, but nice-looking, tablecloth. “About what?”

Daisy scoffed, the cracker she was nicking from the tray hovering in front of her lips. “About Fitz coming back?”

“I’m happy.”

“Really?” She crunched the cracker and raised her brows.

“Yes,” Jemma assured. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Daisy shrugged as she brought over the cheese and cracker tray. She placed the platter down, looking over her shoulder at her friend as she did so. “I don’t know. I just figured you would be more… I don’t know--nervous. You still won’t tell me what happened between the two of you.” She straightened up and folded her now free arms across her chest. “I just know you’ve been missing him and I don’t want to see you disappointed is all.”

“Why would I be disappointed? He’s my best friend. I’ve missed him and I am excited to see him again.” Jemma trailed off, staring into the middle distance as a wave of nerves crashed over her. Feeling the anxiety begin to work its tendrils into her excitement, she quickly shook them off and fixed the position of the cheese platter. It was going to be a good day, she reminded herself. Fitz was coming back, she would make new friends. It was going to be a good day. 

As time drew nearer to the main event, everyone got into position. The party committee--plus Phil--had worked out a way to greet the newcomers. A welcome wagon of sorts. Phil stood by reception and shook the newcomer’s hand, Jemma handed them a gift bag from her seat--they were filled with coupons to local restaurants and a few office supplies--and then Daisy or Elena would show them to their desk. Originally Raina had been a showing to a desk person, but Daisy had assured they only needed two people on the job. 

“And Raina is terrifying to people who’ve known her for three years,” Daisy whispered to Jemma and Elena. They couldn’t really argue with that, nor did they want to. Raina was indeed terrifying.

The DC transfers started to arrive at nine forty-five, starting with a young woman with long dark hair. She had a fierce but not mean look to her but a quick smile softened the features.

“Hello, I’m Kara Palamas,” she said, holding out her hand to Phil.

“Phil Coulson, manager of this branch,” he responded, sharply extending his palm to shake hers. Phil had on his joking voice, the tone so over-serious that it couldn’t be real. He even deepened it, Jemma realized. A bubble of laughter rose in her throat, but it was quickly popped by the look on Kara’s face. She looked unamused, still trying to decipher if Phil was just joking or mocking her. Jemma picked a silver gift bag up from the floor and stood up from her chair, the noise it made breaking the strange tether of tension that had formed. 

“Here’s a little gift we made to welcome you to Pittsburgh,” Jemma piped up, leaning over her desk to hand it to the new saleswoman. 

Another smile pulled up Kara’s cheeks, but it definitely did not go as high as it had gone before. She took the bag but didn’t open it. 

“Thank you…”

“Jemma.”

Kara nodded. “Thank you, Jemma.”

With that, Jemma sat back down and Elena quickly ushered Kara away, introducing herself as they walked the few feet over to her new desk. She was placed in Mack’s old seat, the same cluster as Hunter and Bobbi. Jemma, however, only watched them go for a moment before her attention was drawn back to the opening of the door. Her heart rate quickened and she sat a bit taller to see over her desk. She searched for the mop of sandy curls, the blue eyes, the Scottish accent. Instead, she just saw a man in a large overcoat. He introduced himself as Gordon, another accountant, and Jemma handed him a gift bag. 

The party committee went through the same song and dance with three more people before finally, Jemma heard the voice she had been waiting to hear. He was talking to a tall blonde man who introduced himself as Lincoln. Fitz waited patiently as they welcomed Lincoln, Daisy did so with quite a bit of enthusiasm, and kept his eyes on the coat draped over his arm. Jemma tried to be friendly as she handed Lincoln the gift bag, but her own gaze continued to linger on Fitz. Finally, Daisy swept Lincoln off towards the annex where he would be working. With two consecutive looks over the shoulder, Daisy showed excitement at who her new cubicle buddy was as well as wished Jemma good luck.

With Lincoln gone, Fitz moved towards Jemma’s desk. He smiled at her quickly before Phil blocked their sightline, shaking Fitz’s hand.

“Good to have you back, Fitz.”

“Good to be back, sir,” he said. There was not an ounce of insincerity in his voice. By the sound of it, he truly was glad to be back. 

Phil clapped him quickly on the shoulder. “Well, Jemma’s got your gift bag and as you’re the last one coming I’ll be heading back to my office,” he said. As he stepped over the threshold, Jemma could have sworn Phil had given her a look similar to Daisy’s before he shut the door. It almost looked like he was wishing her luck as well.

Turning around with his hands in his pockets, Fitz came to stand next to the coat rack, right at the entrance to the reception area. 

“Hello, my name is Fitz,” he said mock-serious, extending out his hand, “It’s my first day--”

Jemma cut off the joke by leaping from her chair and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh my god, it’s really you,” she said delightedly. He smelled like pine trees and a hint of the pouring rain outside. 

“I was just making a joke about how we never met--”

Jemma laughed. “I know, but I missed you too much to care.”

He scoffed, the sound half-way between a laugh and the sound of his usual retort. If it had been possible it would have made her smile grow even wider. However, her face was already stretched as far as it could go, the grin going from ear to ear and wrinkling the corners of her eyes. She pulled away, her hands still on his biceps, and took him in. He looked just as she remembered him, except perhaps for the bit of stubble he had allowed to grow on his cheeks. It carved his face nicely. He was wearing his normal work attire, white button up and a plain black tie with a suit jacket he would take off the moment he sat down. He even had the same pair of slightly scuffed dress shoes. And yet, Jemma had to admit something felt different. She pushed the thought away and fixed a smile back on her face. 

“Good to have you back,” she said, dropping her hands from his arms. 

The corner of Fitz’s mouth quirked upward and he quickly rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s good to be back. Place looks nice.”

“We organized.”

“I’m sure you had a guiding hand in that process,” he smiled, still looking out at the office.

“Of course.”

Jemma was going to continue the conversation when Fitz began to back away from reception. He was still smiling, but he had taken a step away from her and his eyes had fallen away from the office and to the floor. Jemma’s hope for the day threatened to drop as well, but she refused to let it. It was still a work day, he still had a job to do. That had to be why he seemed so eager to go. She tried not to think of all the times he had skived off working to just lean against her desk and talk to her, fiddling with a paperclip or folding a mini paper airplane out of a sticky note. That was different.

“I should be getting to my desk,” he said, a thumb bent over his shoulder, “First impressions are important, Simmons.”

She nodded, grateful for his playful tone. “Yes, they are.”

With that, he turned over his left shoulder and made for his desk.

* * *

When Fitz had woken up that morning, he had paid special attention to everything he was wearing. He tamed his curls as best as he could, made sure his shirt wasn’t wrinkly, and was careful about putting on the right amount of cologne. Normally, he wasn’t in a rush to get to work. He would let his alarm go off at least three times before pulling himself out of bed, would take his sweet time making cereal for breakfast, and would be out the door just a tad late as was his custom. But, that morning he had found himself watching the clock, waiting for it to be an appropriate time to leave. He didn’t want to get to work too early and look too eager to be back and he didn’t want to be late and give the impression of not wanting to be there at all. He had to look the right amount of being there...whatever that meant.

Unlike his fellow transfers, Fitz didn’t struggle to get to the building. He had worked there for years after all. Instead, he became the person who everyone went to for directions. Most of his DC coworkers hadn’t really tried to even talk to him when he had worked there, now he had to text Kara directions and Lincoln actually called him up after he had taken a wrong turn. 

“Google maps betrayed me,” Lincoln joked when Fitz ran into him at the elevator. “Got completely turned around. Thanks for the help, man.”

Fitz hit the button for the third floor. “No problem.”

Of all the DC alumni, Lincoln had been the most welcoming to Fitz. They hadn’t been friends necessarily but they had talked in the break room or at the water cooler.

“So, how are you feeling about being back?” Lincoln asked.

The fist of nerves in Fitz’s stomach clenched and he squirmed to try and loosen them. “Bit nervous, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s to be expected. Totally normal. I’m kind of nervous too.”

The elevator doors slid open and the two of them got off, Fitz allowing Lincoln to go first. As they walked into the office, Lincoln had just started talking about the motel he was having to stay in and it provided a nice delay in the inevitable. Focusing on what Lincoln was saying, Fitz had a brief few moments to collect himself before he allowed himself to notice her.

Jemma was sitting behind the reception desk, her neck stretched long to look and see who had entered. Her eyes were bright and there was a tint of pink high on her cheeks. Fitz glanced at her quickly before looking down at the coat he had draped over his arm. Lincoln was introducing himself to Phil before being led away by a very happy looking Daisy. 

During the whole interaction before him, Fitz was silently warring with himself. Nearly everything in him wanted to move closer to Jemma and say hello, to wrap her in his arms and profess how much he had missed her. But he was stopped by the memory that had torn them apart. The memory of when he had pushed her away forever. In spite of the memory, Fitz halted the circular motion of his thumb on his palm, smiled and took a step toward Jemma, only to be cut off mid-step by Phil.

“Good to have you back, Fitz,” his boss said merrily, extending his hand. 

Fitz took it and shook, genuinely glad to see the man whose hand he was shaking. “Good to be back, sir.”

“Well,” Phil said, clapping him quickly on the shoulder, “Jemma’s got your gift bag and as you’re the last one coming I’ll be heading back to my office.”

Once Phil was off on his way, Fitz took a steadying breath and finally took the step forward. Should he be serious? Should he hug her? Should he shake her hand? Fitz suddenly had no idea what to do with his arms. Feeling himself scrambling, he resorted to humor, hoping that it would put them back in their normal place of playful bantering.

“Hello, my name is Fitz,” he said mock-serious, extending out his hand, “It’s my first day--”

Jemma had her arms around his neck in a warm embrace before he could even get the sentence out. She smelled sweet and her hair tickled his nose. 

“Oh my god, it’s really you,” she said, her voice muffled by her hair and his neck.

Fitz moved his chin a bit higher on her shoulder to speak. “I was just making a joke about how we never met--”

She laughed and he could feel the vibrations transfer from her chest to his. “I know,” she said, “but I missed you too much to care.”

The knot in Fitz’s stomach loosened a bit. She had missed him too. She had missed him, and yet as she said it, Fitz realized all the time and space that had separated them. It was the strangest feeling and he didn’t know why it made him squirm the way he did. He has missed her too, the feeling being part of the reason he came back. But in all that missing her, he had underestimated all the other emotions at play. 

She let go of him slowly, her hands still on his arms, and Fitz could have sworn he saw the same weight he felt land in the swimming hazel of her irises. 

“Good to have you back,” she said. Her hands fell off his arms and to her sides. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, turning away from her and willing himself not to blush. He was nervous enough, turning the color of a beet root would not help anything. “It’s good to be back. Place looks nice.”

“We organized.” He could hear the pride in her voice, like she had packed months of effort into the single phrase. 

“I’m sure you had a guiding hand in that process,” he smiled. 

“Of course.”

The strange feeling still squirming up and around his insides, Fitz had the strangest urge to retreat. He felt that if he stayed standing there at reception any longer he would burst with all the things he still felt for her. She hadn’t wanted that then, he wasn’t going to force it on her now. Besides, it wasn’t the place. He still couldn’t even look at her. Not yet. He wasn’t sure when he would be able to look her in the eye again. Probably once they had talked through everything that had happened. But he didn’t even know where to begin. Instead, at that moment, he simply shrugged and cocked his thumb over his shoulder. 

“I should be getting to my desk,” he said, trying to imbue his voice with a playful tone. “First impressions are important, Simmons.”

“Yes, they are.” 

Without even turning to look her full in the face, he moved towards his old desk, taking off his jacket and unhooking his bag from off his shoulder and onto the back of the chair. 

“Turbo,” a voice greeted happily from the direction of the kitchen. It was Mack, one hand holding a mug of coffee and the other flying out to his side.

Fitz beamed. “Mack, how’ve you been?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders, placing the mug on the desk. “Same old same old.”

Fitz's smile slipped as his eyes drifted to the mug. Mack coughed, causing Fitz to jump and back away from the desk. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” Fitz said, gesturing lamely at the mug, “This is your desk now isn’t it?” 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, Turbo.”

“Oh, nothing to be--uh--sorry over. Just a desk. I’ll just sit--uh,” he nodded towards the desk opposite Deke’s, kitty-corner to Mack. “I’ll just sit here.”

He pulled his bag from off the chair and side stepped to the free desk, settling himself as Mack sat down. Scooting up his rolling chair, Fitz ruffled the curls on the back of his head and twitched his face to try and relieve the awkwardness that had settled in his gut. Mingled with the awkward feelings was the strange sense of disappointment of not being in his old desk. Now, his back was to Jemma and he was staring at the office clock, able to see how slow time was passing, and across from Deke. 

It was odd. He had sat at his old desk for years. He would lean back in his chair and silently communicate with Jemma over the short distance between them. They would air five and laugh and give one another bits of support to make it through the day. Now he had even lost that. Maybe it was a sign. As much as he wanted everything to go back to how it was, it just wasn’t going to happen. The universe wouldn’t even give him his old desk. Those thoughts on his mind, he wanted nothing more than to bash his face into his keyboard, the urge only heightened when Deke sat down. The temp sat down with a flourish, twisting side to side in his chair as he started to click a pen. 

“Look who’s back.” A series of clicks followed the statement.

“Hey, Deke.” 

“How was DC?” he asked, voice laced with a trace of sing-song. 

Fitz rubbed his eye. “It was fantastic. Obviously.”

Deke wasn’t all bad, but at that moment his presence was not exactly what Fitz needed. 

“Yeah, must have sucked to pack and then unpack and then pack up again and all that. Makes you wonder why you transferred at all.”

Fitz stared at his keyboard for a moment. His chest had gone tight and he was still squirming from the past few awkward encounters. He took a deep breath and looked up at Deke. “Well, Deke, I can’t predict the future, so.” 

With a quick point at his work, Fitz cut off any further conversation. He even put his phone up to his ear for good measure despite not having a client in mind to call. Five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

* * *

Phil called everyone into the conference room at two. When he had exited his office and called them all to gather, Jemma had quickly finished up her copy making and walked along with everyone else. Her arms swung at her sides and she had a little spring in her step. She had been a tad bit crushed when Fitz had been forced to move desks, cutting off her sight line. She had gotten very good at reading Fitz’s facial expressions but she wasn’t sure how well those skills would transfer to reading the back of his head. But, Jemma was nothing if not a person of positivity. The day wasn’t over yet and she could still sit by him in the get to know you meeting. 

As they filed into the conference room, Jemma side-stepped Davis to try and get closer to Fitz. She was just about to tap him playfully on the back, coming up behind him right as they crossed the threshold, when he moved to sit between Mack and Hunter. Mack stared confused while Hunter glanced over at Fitz before turning to whisper something to Bobbi. Bobbi’s eyebrows knitted together and she leaned forward to look across at Fitz, her eyes dragging from him to find Jemma, still standing in the doorway. 

When Bobbi’s eyes had caught hers, Jemma suddenly couldn’t focus on anything. She felt her heartbeat quicken and her throat close, her eyes flying around the room for an empty seat. There had been a few times when Jemma hadn’t sat by Fitz in a meeting, but each of those times had been because he wasn’t there or because they had assigned spots. He had chosen his spot deliberately, and any hope for the day getting better faded away into nothing. It took everything in her not to cry. 

“Oh, sorry Jemma,” Piper said, bumping into her and startling her back to her surroundings. 

“No, I’m sorry. I--I was in the way. I’ll just--”

“Alright!” Phil called, clapping his hands together, “everyone settle down.” 

Jemma quickly found a spot towards the front of the table, seating herself next to May and Davis. Phil started up on his presentation, but Jemma didn’t hear a word of it. His voice simply faded into the same frequency as the air conditioner. She stared at the cheese plate on the table, watched people take crackers and fruit without really seeing it. The spell only broke when one of the transfers raised their hand. Looking up, Jemma tried to remember the man’s name. It was the tall man. What was his name? Gordon! That was it.

“Yes?” Phil asked. He appeared taken aback by the interruption but recovered quickly.

“That seems inefficient,” Gordon stated bluntly. 

“What does?”

“The way your salespeople file their reports. It’s time consuming and unorganized. At the DC branch we had a system that was easier on our accountants.”

A chair squealed as someone fidgeted in their seat and somewhere outside the window a car honked. For some reason, the feelings stirring somewhere at Jemma’s sternum fell to her gut and lit on fire. Luckily, Raina spoke before Jemma could spit flames. The accountant’s voice was as silky as ever and for the first time in her life Jemma was glad to hear it. 

“Actually,” Raina said, “our filing system works efficiently and is more user-friendly for sales. It just requires an adept accountant.” She smiled. “I’m sure with a bit of effort you could learn it just fine.” 

Someone made an “oooh” sound but whether it was Deke or Hunter, Jemma couldn’t tell. Whoever it was, she thought the tone was off. That deserved a cheer. 

“Any other suggestions for this branch?” Phil asked. Now that deserved an “ooooh” in Jemma’s books. Instead, no one said anything and Phil clapped his hands together again. “Alright,” he said, “back to the get to know you.”

They spent the rest of the meeting going around introducing themselves. They said where they were from, their position in the branch, their favorite animal (Daisy had been adamant that that question said a lot about a person), and other such questions. It was odd at times and the new people still seemed uneasy especially after Gordon’s interruption, but there was better energy in the room at the end than there had been at the beginning. 

When Phil finally let them all go with a “great job today everyone,” Jemma didn’t try to talk to Fitz. She simply went to her desk and started to put her things away. Like usual, she was one of the last to leave the building. Only Phil and May were left and she waved goodbye to them as she pulled on her coat and walked to the elevator. The evening was cold and the air still weighed down by the moisture left in the air from the rain. It was no longer raining, but the sky was a slate gray and there were little puddles in the parking lot. 

Jemma walked to her car with her arms crossed, her cold hands tucked under her armpits to keep them warm. She was just about to open the car door when she heard a call from behind her. 

“Simmons,” Fitz said. He had been jogging slightly but slowed when he saw her hand freeze on the door handle. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He swallowed. He was spinning his car keys on his finger and they both watched the rotation. “About today, I--I didn’t mean to--I just--”

“It’s okay, Fitz,” she said, cutting off his rambling. She didn’t feel okay, but she needed to say something, anything to get him to look at her. “It was your first day back and things are...different.”

He looked up at her, but his eyes trailed all over her face, refusing to meet hers completely. Arms still crossed, she pinched the seam of her coat. 

She gave him a small smile. “We’re friends, right? We’ll always be friends.”

“Yeah. Always.” His answer was resolute and for a moment his gaze stilled. 

Now she was the one that had to look away. Nothing was right, the night was off, and in spite of everything they had just said, the day had still happened. Everything between them had still happened. She pulled open the driver’s side door and Fitz instinctively drew back.

“Goodnight, Fitz,” she said, looking over the line of the door. 

“Goodnight, Simmons. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, see you tomorrow.”

He nodded at her, ducked his head to his shoes, put his hands in his pockets, and went back to his car across the lot. Meanwhile, Jemma watched him go in her rearview mirror and bit her lip to keep the tears at bay, silently cursing Casino Night.


	5. Casino Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is very very late. But what's new? Thank you so much to everyone for being so patient and kind as I worked through my very annoying and difficult writer's block. You all are the best. And thank you for sticking with this fic! Love you all and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

_ Six months previously _

As a way of raising money for charity, Playground Paper was having a Casino Night. Everyone was to get all dressed up, go down to the warehouse, and enjoy a fun night of poker, roulette, blackjack, and other such gambling games. There would be drinking and music and for the first time in forever the employees of the Pittsburgh branch were excited to go to work that day. The party wouldn’t be happening until later that night, but the positive energy still radiated about the office like sunshine through open windows. 

“How much money are you going to gamble, Simmons?” Fitz asked, leaning over her desk with a cheeky grin on his face. He punctuated his question by popping a few jelly beans from the container on her desk into his mouth.

Jemma shrugged one shoulder, putting on a non-committal face. “A reasonable amount. It is for charity, after all.”

“So, a million?” he teased.

“A million,” she said, feigning indignant, “That’s play money, Fitzy. Try a billion.”

He laughed and it made a happy little zing of energy run up her spine. Fitz laughed so rarely at work that every time she heard it she cherished it. He had the nicest laugh, like it started in his heart before coming out of his mouth. And it lit up his eyes ever so nicely. 

After Jemma had set a date for her wedding with Will, following their three-year-long engagement, Fitz had become a bit distant. He didn’t come over to her desk quite as much and he was a bit more shy around her than he usually was. He was hesitant to talk about some things, like why he had talked to Maria Hill the week previously or anything surrounding her wedding. They still talked and joked with one another, still played pranks on Deke--Daisy was still confused as to who had left lemon’s on her desk--and goofed around, and they were still the best of friends. Jemma was sure the slight distance he was giving her was just due to them both being stressed. Her with the wedding and him with whatever work Maria Hill has given him. But, he was still Fitz. If she needed his help, he would provide it without question. And she did need his help after all. 

“So,” she said, leaning forward so her elbows were on either side of her keyboard, “I was wondering if you wanted to help the party planning committee set up for Casino Night.”

He lowered his brows over his eyes slightly. “The party planning committee needs my help?”

“Well there are lots of things that we need to put up and I don’t want to be alone down there with Raina.”

“But won’t you have Daisy and Elena?” he asked, chewing on another jellybean.

Jemma shook her head. “They claimed grabbing food, the traitors.”

“The nerve of them.”

“Please help me, Fitz.”

“Of course I’ll help,” he said softly, crossing his arms on the desk. “I’ll always help you, Jemma. However, you do have to do me a favor in return.”

“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“You have to get better candy at reception. These are bloody awful.”

“And yet you still eat them.”

He pushed up off the desk. “Just because they’re bad doesn’t mean they’re not candy.”

She picked up a paperclip and chucked it at him as he walked backward toward his desk, dumping another handful of jelly beans into his mouth. “Get back to work.”

* * *

There were more than enough things that needed to be done in the warehouse, even more than Jemma had originally been told. While Raina was running about bossing around whoever she could, Fitz and Jemma hid off to one side, setting up the area around the bar and praying the small but intimidating accountant didn’t come their way.

“Would you rather speak any language or speak to animals,” Fitz asked, holding up his tape ladened fingers for Jemma to grab a piece.

She taped up part of the shiny blue streamers. “If I could speak any language surely I can speak to animals as well,” she said.

“Uh uh, Simmons. We’ve talked about this! No loopholes.”

“It’s not a loophole. Animals have their own means of communication, a language so to speak. If I can speak any language, then I can speak to animals.”

Fitz shook his head, holding back a grin. “Cheater cheater, loophole seeker.”

Jemma just laughed, grabbing another piece of tape off of Fitz’s pointer finger. It was moments like this where Jemma most valued Fitz’s friendship. She had been stressed for days over her wedding, picking out flowers and food and music all while finding out that Will did not seem to care about any of said things. Somehow it was even more frustrating that Will let her choose everything rather than voicing an opinion of his own. All she wanted to know was if he liked white roses with lavender or wildflowers. 

Luckily, she had a friend who helped take away all the stress of planning her wedding, for being with Fitz seemed to just take all the weight off. 

“What about you?” she asked, her focus still on securing the streamers. 

“Well, if you get the loophole so do I. See not as fun is it?”

She rolled her eyes before reaching out for another piece of tape. However, neither of them had noticed that Fitz’s supply had run out. Instead, Jemma simply reached for his fingers and held on, trying to take a piece of tape that wasn’t there.

“Uh, Simmons,” Fitz said, clearing his throat.

She looked down at where her fingers were grazing his and nearly fell off the ladder. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. She drew her fingers away, moving them to her hair to tuck away a stray strand.

Fitz just smiled shyly, his nose twitching once before he held out his hand for her to take.

“I think that it’ll hold. Might as well move onto the next thing,” he said.

Jemma took his offered hand and stepped off the ladder. “And if it doesn’t and it ends up falling down?”

“Well,” he shrugged, “then we’ll just have to hope Raina chooses a painless death for the both of us.”

“Raina? Merciful?”

“I don’t know, she might be.”

Shooting him a look, Jemma shook her head.

“Jemma! Fitz!” Raina called from across the warehouse floor, “there’s plenty more for you to do, you know. Not every task’s completion needs a celebration.”

Fitz gave her a thumbs up before turning back to Jemma. Moving her mouth into a little upturn tick, Jemma gave him a silent message of “ _ Told you so.” _

With Raina’s bossiness--or perhaps because everyone was afraid of her--Casino Night got set up relatively quickly given how much they had had to do. In a matter of hours, the warehouse went from a series of shelves and fluorescent lighting to a pretty nice place for a party. Sheets of colored plastic were draped about the ceiling, turning the lights a warmer shade. Dark fabric and plastic glitter streamers were hung on the walls, closing in the space so it was more tightly packed and felt less empty. The poker tables were set up along with roulette, craps, and blackjack, and the bar was ready to serve whoever wanted a drink. All things considered, it wasn’t half bad.

Though some people brought a change of clothes, most people went home before returning to the office dressed up for the night. Jemma was one of those who went home first before coming back for the party. It was silly, but she wanted to look nice. She picked out a nice emerald cocktail dress that was open in the back, paired it with a pair of black heels, and did her hair in sleek forties-style waves. Everyone dressed in a similar fashion--nice evening attire with a splash of vintage charm. That was the style that Raina had requested for Casino Night and fear of the accountant was enough to keep everyone on theme. 

“Place looks great, don’t you think?” Jemma asked Will as they walked down the steps to the warehouse.

“Yeah, looks nice,” he replied. Jemma had picked out a nice button up for him to wear and even a charming hat. Together with their matching--and on theme--outfits she thought they appeared like a nice pair. Well, they would, if the hesitance Will had for going wasn’t spelled across his face like someone had written it there with a permanent marker. He had had a long day loading a large order and wasn’t really in the partying mood. But, it was part of work so he came along.

Once they had made it down the stairs, Will slipped away to get drinks, leaving Jemma to crane her neck in search of Fitz. She caught him at the poker table sitting next to Bobbi and Hunter, his eyes going back and forth between the two sides of quite the animated discussion. 

“Well don’t you look dashing,” Jemma said, coming up behind Fitz and tugging at his sweater sleeve. It was a nice dark blue that brought out his eyes and he had paired it with clean-cut trousers. His hair was more tame than usual, even parted to the side 40s style, and he had his sleeves rolled up so that the white cuffs went over the arms of the sweater. Dashing indeed.

“Hey, Jems--” he turned away from Bobbi and Hunter and his mouth stopped moving for a moment, frozen where it had left off on her name. His eyes went a darker shade of blue, but Jemma was sure it was only the lighting through the plastic sheets above.

She waited for him to continue, but when his mouth stayed slightly open she began talking once more, hoping to give his brain time to catch up from whatever he had stopped on. 

“Is everything alright? Do I look weird? I feel a bit weird all dressed up at work.”

“No!” he rushed, his brain focusing once more, “you look nice.”

She beamed a bright smile, her heart fluttering a bit. Since when had the warehouse been so warm? Normally it was an absolute icebox.

He turned away from the table to face her head on. “Ready to gamble your billions, Simmons?” he asked.

“No,” she smirked, “I’m ready to take your measly millions.”

“Oh, wow. Getting competitive.”

“What can I say. Feeling lucky. Don’t forget, I’m rather good at beating you at things.”

He scoffed. “Oh really?”

“Yeah. Who won the most medals in the Office Olympics again?”

“By one!”

“Exactly. I beat you by one. One is enough, Fitz. Still got the yogurt lid medal to prove it.”

He laughed. “Do you really?”

“Yes I do,” she replied, beaming.

Just then, Will came back with drinks, handing one to Jemma before offering her his arm. 

“Hey, Fitz,” he said as Jemma took the martini glass and looped her arm through his. “How are you doin’, man?”

Fitz shifted on his stool. “Good good. You?”

“Good, yeah.” He took a sip of his beer and turned to Jemma. “You want to play blackjack?”

“Uh, I was thinking we could play poker,” she said, quickly looking over at Fitz before flicking her eyes away.

Will didn’t look as keen to play as Jemma was, but he agreed to the game. Though, they did have to move down the table a bit to find two empty seats. Jemma wasn’t sure why she was a bit upset about it, as it wasn’t a big deal, but it was harder to have side conversations so far down the table.

Once everyone had found a seat at a game table--or some at the bar--Phil came to stand at the little podium they had set up earlier in the day. He tapped the microphone, causing it to whine loudly so that people covered their ears.

“Testing testing,” he said, his mouth close to the mic. He grinned at his employees, straightened his suit jacket sleeves, passing the mic from one hand to the next before bringing it back up to his face. “Alright, everyone. Welcome to Playground Paper’s Casino Night!”

Cheers erupted around the warehouse and Deke and Daisy whooped from the roulette table. 

“So glad to see you all looking so excited to be here. And all dressed on theme. Happy to hear that Raina won’t have to murder any of you tonight.” There was a good deal of tittering at the joke and even Raina didn’t seem to mind. Phil seemed quite pleased by it himself. “Now,” he continued, “I’d like to remind you all that proceeds from the entire night will be donated to various charities including Children of the Lighthouse and Afterlife Research. So the more money spent the better, right? Now then, enough of me chatting away. Let’s get this party started!”

As Phil put the mic back on its stand, everyone clapped and cheered for the starting off of the evening before turning back to their respective games. Music began to pour through the speakers set up around the warehouse and waiters started coming around with different cocktail foods. Overall, the ambiance was quite nice and Jemma couldn’t help but be a bit proud of her and Fitz’s contribution. She was a tad upset she was too far away to tell him so.

Despite being a good ways away from Fitz, Jemma did end up having more fun playing poker than she expected to. And, she didn’t stay that far from him for long, given how more and more people slowly lost the game. Will got out pretty quickly and moved on to playing at the craps table with Robbie. Hunter also got out pretty fast and Bobbi soon after him, whittling down the players so that soon only Jemma and Fitz were left. Jemma had good cards in her hand and she couldn’t help but let a wide grin slip onto her face. 

“Oh no way,” Fitz said, leaning back a bit on his stool and grinning at her. 

“What?” Jemma asked, scrunching her shoulders to her ears.

“That face. You’re terrible at lying, Jems.”

She shrugged again, still trying to fight her grin from getting too wide. The way Fitz was looking at her, his head low and his eyes narrowed but with that cheeky smile still peeking through, it was hard to keep her face steady. 

“I have good cards,” she said nonchalantly.

Behind Fitz, beer in hand, Hunter scoffed. “She’s bluffing.”

Fitz didn’t pay him any attention, still analyzing Jemma’s expressions with one corner of his mouth higher than the other. He quirked a brow and she tucked her lips over her teeth, quirking a brow back, teasing him without saying a word. 

“I’m all in,” Fitz finally said, breaking their staring competition and pushing his chips into the middle before sitting up straight.

“Me too,” she said. She pushed her chips forward as well.

Fitz flipped his cards over with a smile, only to have it fall when Jemma followed his lead, revealing her winning hand. Hunter swore behind Fitz and next to him Bobbi cheered, raising her glass of wine into the air. 

“Well done, Simmons,” he said, looking up at her through his lashes.

She smiled widely, reveling in her win and pulling his chips towards herself. “What can I say. I had good cards.”

After her victory at poker, Jemma decided to take a bit of a break and observe the other games being played. She watched Will win at blackjack and celebrated with him with another round of drinks. There weren’t many stools at the bar, but luckily only one other person was there, sitting with her back to the warehouse-turned-casino floor. 

“Mind if we sit by you,” Jemma asked, coming to stand next to the woman.

The woman at the bar turned and Jemma was surprised to see the face of Maria Hill.

“Go right ahead,” she said before turning to take another sip of her beer.

Of all the people Jemma expected to see at Casino Night, Maria was not one of them. Mostly the corporate overseer just stopped in to make sure Phil wasn’t going against the higher-ups. In fact, Jemma remembered her not being overly happy with Casino Night in the first place, something about the office throwing too many parties. She had only given Phil the go ahead when she heard it was for charity. So the answer to why Maria was here at all was beyond Jemma. 

“Are you enjoying Casino Night?” Jemma asked. She scooted her seat up as Will ushered over the bartender. 

Maria nodded stiffly. “Yes. I’ve only just got here and I can’t stay for long, but yes. The place looks nice and everyone seems to be having a good time.”

“Thanks,” Jemma said, “we worked really hard on it.”

The bartender handed over Jemma’s drink, setting it down on a napkin in front of her. Next to her, Will leaned over the bar to talk to Maria as well.

“So why are you here?” he asked.

“Needed to drop off some papers, speak to a few people. Thought I might as well stop in and help raise some money for charity.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Jemma said. 

“Least I could do.” She took one final sip of her beer before slipping off her stool to stand at the bar. “But I should be on my way.”

“Already?” 

She straightened the hem of her dress. “Yes. I still have a bit more business and a long drive ahead of me. Good to talk to you both.”

She nodded at the both of them once more before walking in the direction of the blackjack table. Jemma watched as she tapped Phil on the shoulder before her attention was drawn to Will clearing his throat.

“What business do you think she’s doing?” he asked. 

Jemma shrugged. “Couldn’t say. Seems important if she’s driven all this way.”

They both turned to look at Maria once more before looking back at one another. Will made a “dunno” face and took another sip of his drink. 

As Will drank his drink and started talking about his winning game of craps, Jemma looked over her shoulder once more at Maria. She was talking with Phil, their heads close together but occasionally popping up to look about the casino floor. Jemma watched as their eyes scanned over to the roulette table where Fitz, Mack, and Hunter appeared to be having a good deal of fun. Fitz was centered between the two other men and he had a happy glow about him, his cheeks tinted like he’d just been out in the sun. As she followed Phil and Maria’s gazes, Jemma couldn’t help but get lost in watching Fitz celebrate another successful bet and smiled at how the three men all jumped up in unison at his win. She couldn’t quite understand why she wanted to be over there so badly. She was having a good time with Will, but her attention kept getting pulled away, like she wasn’t truly with Will at all. She was so focused on the table that it took him saying her name twice for her to finally hear him.

“Sorry?” she said, snapping back to where she was sitting.

“I asked if you were ready to go home.”

“What?” 

“Home,” he said a bit louder.

She shook her head. “I heard you. I meant why?”

“Because I’m tired and ready to go,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh.”

Jemma was not ready to go home at all. She had made a good deal of money and was excited about playing another game, maybe even challenging Fitz to another round of poker. But she could sense Will was done with Casino Night. She had also sensed, the entire night in fact, that he hadn’t even really wanted to be there in the first place. She didn’t blame him. She knew he was tired. She just wasn’t ready to leave the party herself.

“I’m not quite ready to go,” she said, sitting up higher on her stool. 

“Jemma--”

"You can go home and I’ll grab a ride from Daisy.” 

Will sighed but smiled. “Alright. Just don’t spend our entire wedding budget trying to beat people at poker.”

“I promise I won’t,” she laughed. 

Once Jemma had finished her drink, the two of them stood up from the bar and began their walk towards Will’s truck, Jemma deciding to walk him out and get some fresh air in the process. As they made their way up the stairs back into the lobby of the building, Will needing to grab his coat, Jemma looked about the room from the bird’s eye view. She couldn’t help but notice as her eyes scanned the warehouse floor that she couldn’t find Fitz among the crowd.

“You alright?” Will asked, stopping a few stairs up. 

“Uh, yeah,” she replied. “Just--nevermind.”

She took one last glance out at the party, but it yielded the same result. Fitz was gone.

* * *

Fitz had to admit that he was having fun at Casino Night. It was surprising as he fully expected to feel stuck and stuffy, surrounded by his coworkers in the dingy warehouse. But the party planning committee had done a good job setting it up, and even being a part of setting it up had been enjoyable. Though, spending time with Jemma was always enjoyable in his mind. The dialogue between them always passed easily and he often left conversations with her with a dopey grin on his face. Even after all the years they had known one another, Fitz still couldn’t help the warmth that radiated outward from his heart when he talked to her. 

However, since he had first talked to Maria about transferring, well even before then, things had been a bit strained between the two of them. He hadn’t told Jemma about the possibility of him leaving, but he could sense she knew something was wrong. He was grateful that she didn’t push the topic, accepting his shoulder shrugs and noncommittal noises as a sign that he wasn’t up for talking about it. She probably thought it was some top secret work thing, which in some ways it was. But truthfully the secrecy centered around more personal matters. There was no way of explaining his decision honestly without revealing his feelings. 

Ever since she and Will had set a date for their wedding, Fitz had left every conversation he had with Jemma with a heavy stone of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Said stone often snuffed out that warmth he normally felt, leaving him horribly hollow and feeling like a selfish prick. Because he didn’t just like Jemma Simmons, and that knowledge ate him up from the inside. They were friends and the more the feelings he had for her grew, the less he felt he deserved her friendship. It was his fault he let the feelings grow. It was his fault that he wanted so desperately to take those moments together as romantic ones. And that guilt that he felt, the guilt that he had let himself forget as they set up the party that morning, all came flooding back when she had arrived at Casino Night. 

She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful but for some reason tonight was different. She had done something different with her hair so that the dark waves framed her face nicely and she was happier than he’d seen her in a while. When he first saw her he had forgotten how to breathe let alone talk. It took seeing her nervous at his awkwardness to snap him out of it. And then she had taken Will’s arm and that pure sense of guilt had raced back into his bloodstream, burning him up like kindling in a fire. He tried to shake it off, enjoy playing poker, enjoy the night, but that was the issue really. She made it easy to forget. She made him happier than he had any right to be.

After finishing the poker game, Fitz had moved on to play a few games with Mack and Hunter. He had a lucky streak at the roulette table, leaving everyone else in great spirits as well. 

“Bloody hell, Fitzy! Look at you go!” Hunter shouted, shaking him by the shoulder. 

“It’s all luck,” Fitz tried to say, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Hunter gave him another shove. “Take the compliment mate. Revel in your success.”

Fitz laughed, taking the bottle of beer Mack dangled in front of his face. 

“Who says I’m not reveling in my luck, huh?” he asked, bringing the bottle up to his smiling lips.

“Yeah yeah,” Hunter said. “Shall we test your luck with another round of poker?”

Fitz shook his head. “Told Jems I would wait for her before I start another round.”

“Really?” Mack interjected. He had that crease between his brows that Fitz wasn’t overly fond of.

“Yeah, why?”

It was Hunter who responded. “Because it looks like she’s leaving, mate.”

Fitz spun around to face the bar, the last place he had spotted Jemma. Sure enough, she was standing up to go, Will’s arm around her shoulder. For some silly reason, Fitz couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Not just that she was leaving, but that she was leaving without saying goodbye. 

“Excuse me?” a familiar voice said behind them. 

All three men startled at the voice, Hunter even sloshing some of his drink onto Mack’s shoes, though Mack was also too startled to notice at first.

“Maria,” Fitz spluttered. He had not expected to see his boss’s boss at Casino Night, but he definitely hadn’t expected to be so startled by said boss’s boss. He was a bit embarrassed by how high he had jumped. At least his shoes were beer-free.

“Is it alright if I talk to you for a moment, Fitz?” she asked.

Fitz tried to ignore the glances that Hunter and Mack were exchanging over his head. “Uh, sure,” he said.

“Good. Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long.”

Fitz nodded, following as Maria turned heel and wound her way through the crowd towards the back exit. The night was colder than Fitz expected it to be, feeling the brisk night air even through his sweater and collared shirt. In spite of the chill, it was actually a rather nice night. He could even see a few stars dotting the inky black sky. 

“So,” Maria started, “have you given any more thought about DC?” Fitz knew from the few conversations he had had with her that Maria wasn’t one to mince words. Still, he was sort of thrown off balance moving from the loud warehouse floor to being reminded of the very big decision he had to make. Though, now that the conversation was brought up, he felt it was all very fitting. After seeing Jemma leaving the party, that stone of guilty disappointment had returned and somehow, mixed with the brisk night air, everything became very clear. 

“Yeah, I have been thinking about it,” he said, his hands falling heavily into his pockets. 

Maria gave a microscopic nod. “Good. Now I don’t want to rush you, and I would’ve even waited until Monday to talk to you about it, but I got a call on my way here from the manager of the DC branch. He says that with the next quarter starting soon he would need the transfer there as soon as possible. So I’m afraid I’ll need your decision by the start of the coming week.”

“Alright.”

“You’ll need to talk to Phil as well. He’s got a bit of a heads up about what’s going on, but I didn’t want to set anything in stone until you were ready.”

“Yeah, of course,” Fitz said. For some reason he suddenly became very aware of himself; the pace of his breathing, the steady beating of his heart, the thoughts whirring about in his head. 

“Can I ask you something, Fitz?” Maria said, pulling him back into the world for a moment. 

“Sure.”

“From what I could tell from the times I’ve stopped in, you’ve seemed happy here. You have a good sales record, you appear to get along with your coworkers, Phil has given you glowing reviews. Why the decision to leave?” 

Fitz rubbed his neck and looked at his feet, taking a deep breath of air through his nose. To his surprise, though, the words came easily. “I have no future here.”

Maria didn’t say anything. Instead, they just stood outside together in silence with the stars, cars, and forgotten cigarette buds. 

Finally, Maria broke the silence. “Well, from what Phil has told me, DC will be lucky to have you.”

“I’ll have to thank him for that review.”

Fitz offered to walk Maria to her car, an offer she accepted with another slight nod and a thank you. As she drove out of the parking lot, he waved her goodnight, watching as her taillights grew dim with distance. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the party just yet. He still was feeling the strange effects of the conversation he had just had, overly aware of every move he made and every thought that passed through his head. It was in this dream-like state that he stood in the parking lot, only barely noticing that he wasn’t alone there. 

“There you are,” came Jemma’s voice from the front of the office building. She was halfway out the open door, leaning briefly on the handle before coming all the way outside. “I thought you had left. Was mad you hadn’t said goodbye.”

Fitz shook his head as she walked towards him. “I thought  _ you _ had left without saying goodbye.”

“I would never.”

“Neither would I.”

She smiled. “That’s why I was so surprised. I was just walking Will out to his car.”

“Did he leave?” Fitz asked.

A look passed across Jemma’s face but she shook it away like writing on an etch-a-sketch. “He’d had a long day,” she explained. 

Fitz drew his brows together. “He left without you?” 

Jemma waved his worry away with her hand. “I said he could. Told him I’d get a ride home from Daisy.” A stray wavy lock of hair had come undone from its pinning, and Jemma tucked it behind her ear. “So,” she said, her tone becoming playful, “are you ready for me to kick your butt at poker again.”

Fitz laughed at the cocky smile she shot him. Her eyes were unbelievably bright, even in the partial darkness of the parking lot. 

“Because I would love to win more of your millions,” she continued.

“Oh really?”

“Yep. I told you, I’m feeling kind of lucky tonight.”

She rocked on her toes, her teeth biting into her lip to try and keep her smile from getting too big. And for the second time that night, the world came into sharp relief. On Monday he was going to talk to Phil. On Monday he was going to confirm his transfer with Maria. And by the start of the quarter, he’d be gone. And it all would start Monday. Monday when he chose to leave her. But even then he would be leaving with a stone in his stomach and a collection of words he would wish he’d have said. 

“Actually I wanted to tell you something,” he began, still riding his strange wave of clarity. 

Jemma’s shoulders dropped and her back straightened, no doubt sensing the serious tone his voice had taken. 

“Oh. Okay,” she said. 

He took a shallow breath but kept his eyes on her. “It’s just--I’m in love with you.”

She took in a sharp breath. “What?”

“I know it’s probably not good timing,” he said, “I really know that. I just needed to tell you before--I just needed to tell you.”

Her smile was gone now, replaced by wide eyes and slightly parted lips. “What am I supposed to say to that, Fitz?” she asked, her voice as straight as an arrow. She searched his face with her brows drawn together, a horrible mix of fear and frustration on her face, combined with something that Fitz couldn’t decipher and didn’t know if he wanted to.

“I just needed you to know,” he replied thickly. 

Jemma swallowed. “Well, I--I can’t--” 

It hurt to hear the emotion now pulling at her voice, how quiet she had become, and he could feel the threat of tears burning the back of his own throat. 

“I know,” he said. 

You’re my best friend,” she said, her face softening a bit. But it was like she was grasping at straws, trying to catch something that they both knew was quickly slipping away. She walked towards him, but he countered with a step backward, shaking his head. 

“And you’re more than that Jemma. I want to be more than that.”

“I can’t Fitz.” 

Her voice broke and his heart broke with it. He could see the shuddery breath she exhaled, the wisp of fog materializing in the chill. If it had been any other time, he would have given her his sweater. Now, however, he could only stare at her as warm tears boiled at the rim of his eyes. Tears of guilt and pain and rejection tracing his cheeks as they just stood frozen with a slowly growing gap of pavement between them. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, but the emotions still stuck to every bit of himself. 

“I know,” he said, staring down at his feet. “I know.”

Unable to look back up from the ground, Fitz blinked away the continued onslaught of tears and walked out of the parking lot and away from Jemma. 

* * *

Jemma could do nothing but stare blankly ahead for the next few minutes. Fitz had walked away towards the street, leaving her to stand alone on the pavement with a million emotions flooding her system. Part of her wanted to chase after him and hit him, force him to take it back. Perhaps scream at him a little. But that was just the surface, a thin veil of anger she knew was an attempt at self-protection. Her feelings were still confused, tumbling about inside her to the point that she couldn’t help but cry. 

Without really knowing what she was doing, Jemma made her way into the elevator and up to the dark office. Her mind was operating separately from her body, her feet carrying her forward to a phone and her shaking hands dialing the numbers without her even thinking about who she was calling. Her mind was focused on its own task, coming up with the things she needed to say and the emotions she needed to try and decipher.

It was nearly a quarter past nine in Pittsburgh, which meant that it was much too early to be calling whom she needed to call. But she did it anyway, silently praying they answered. When she heard the voice at the other end of the line she thanked the heavens her mother was a night owl. 

“Mum?” Jemma whispered into the phone, trying to keep her tears at bay.

“Jemma? Darling are you alright?” her mother asked. Her voice sounded a bit tired and gravely, but hearing it was still the greatest comfort. 

With her mother at the other end of the line, the dam broke and Jemma let all her emotions spill over her carefully built barricade. She shook her head, covering her eyes with her free hand. “I don’t know, mum.”

“What happened, love?”

“We were at a party for work,” she started, her voice strained, “The charity thing I was telling you about.”

“You and Will?”

“No--well yes, but Will left.”

“So you and…?”

"Fitz. Me and Fitz. We had been having a good time and we were talking and--”

Tears continued to slip past her defenses and she choked out a sob. She heard her mother sit and could almost picture the scene at the other end of the call exactly as it was. Her childhood home dark aside from the single light above the dining table, her mother with the yellow landline she refused to part with placed against her ear, her face trained in patience. Somehow the image settled Jemma’s stomach and she took a deep calming breath before continuing. 

“He told me he loved me, mum.”

There was a beat of silence and static. 

“And how do you feel about him?” her mum finally asked. 

“I don’t know,” she replied, twisting the phone cord around her finger, “he’s my best friend.”

“Well, do you love him back?”

Her mother’s voice was clear and calm and the question so simple that it took Jemma aback. With the question, the knot of emotions unraveled and the answer became so apparent that Jemma nearly laughed, a smile pulling up the corners of her lips

“Yeah, I think I do.” A door opened behind Jemma and she turned in the direction of the noise. It was Fitz, his head down and his hands in his pockets. He had a thoughtful look on his face as he paused just a few feet away from her. 

“Uh, mum, I’ll call you back,” she said, turning her back to Fitz. 

“Tell me how it goes,” her mother rushed.

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you t--”

Jemma hung up the phone before her mother could finish, turning back to Fitz. Her heart was hammering against the bones of her ribcage as he took a step towards her. She raised her chin to meet his eyes. He was so close she could feel his body heat. 

“Fitz, I--”

He ducked his face to one side, his hands coming to her hips as his lips gently met hers. It was quick and he made to pull away but Jemma caught him before he could, placing her hands on either side of his face and pulling him back down to meet her. His arms wrapped tighter around her middle as one of her hands moved to the back of his head. He was warm and his touch was gentle, but his lips moved fiercely with hers. She felt like her whole body was on fire, like if she could have her way they would just stay there forever. 

But then he pulled away. Their faces were still close and their heavy breathing in sync. He looked at her for a moment, the blue of his eyes dark. She dragged her hands down his arms and the feel of his sweater was suddenly overwhelming, like the texture of each individual fiber was imprinting itself on her skin. And then he stepped away completely and his gaze hit the ground. 

And just as Jemma’s entire world had been realized, it all came crashing down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Tumblr: @springmagpies 💕


	6. Bar Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses as to why this update is so freaking late. All I can say is I'm sorry. Thank you all for sticking with this fic. I love you more than words can truly do justice! Enjoy!

Jemma could see Phil was trying his best. It had been nearly a month and a half since the merger with the DC branch and yet there was still a pretty big divide between the new employees and those who were originally from the Pittsburgh branch. Out of all those that had come over from the merger, only three remained, two not counting Fitz. This very short list included Kara Palamas and Lincoln Campbell. They got along well with the group but the loss of so many employees so quickly weighed heavily on the team morale. 

A lot of things had gone into the departure of so many of the DC transfers. For the majority of those who left, the new branch just wasn’t the right fit. Phil’s management style was very different from Mace’s, office politics operated differently, and they just handled everyday operations in a much different manner. Gordon, the transfer in accounting, was the only one who had made a rather dramatic exit, having had a pretty nasty run-in with Raina. Something to do with contrasting goals and Raina’s thorny disposition. Really, though, Raina was the department head and knew what she was doing. It was neither person's fault really that the dynamic just didn’t work.

Jemma didn’t blame any of the DC people for leaving--even Gordon who basically teleported out of the place as fast as he could after the big blow out--just as she didn’t blame Phil for the loss. Still, despite the lack of blame put on anyone, Jemma was the first to admit that the energy in the office was off. Though, she knew she was feeling the weight in the air for completely different reasons. 

Ever since Fitz had returned from DC, Jemma had felt a gap between them, like a giant chasm between his desk and hers. His first day back she could excuse to an extent. It was normal for things to be different after such a long time apart. She admittedly had been hurt when he had decided to sit away from her that first meeting back and as much as they had assured the other that they’d always be friends, it was hard to believe it when they hardly even talked anymore, and especially with the events of Casino Night still looming over them like a starry night rain cloud. 

On the rare occasion they did talk to one another those first few weeks he was back, he didn’t look at her, the lack of eye contact wedging open the gap between them that much more. Normally, the expression in those blue eyes of his could tell her all she needed to know about what was going on in his head. But now, he’d closed the curtain to her on that screen. Now when he talked to her, he kept his gaze trained on her desk—if he even came up to it—or his hands or the floor. He was either avoiding looking at her or had developed a fascination for the material desks were made out of. And though that was something Fitz would somehow find a fascination in, Jemma couldn’t help but feel it was the other thing that kept his eyes from locking with hers. 

Even in the face of their rocky new beginning, after over a month they did manage to bridge the chasm ever so slightly. Though their telepathic means of communication were cut off not only by Fitz’s avoidance of eye contact but by the new sales seating chart, they did manage to have a fair few short little conversations in the break room or in the hall between the main room and the annex where they kept the kettle. Though it was nothing like how it had been, Jemma treasured the slow healing of their friendship--at least what she hoped was the slow healing of their friendship. 

It was a Friday at the office. Something about it being close to the week-end, or maybe the tacos Phil had brought in as a treat, made the energy in the building a bit brighter than it had been in the last month. With the air lighter, laughter was easier, leading Jemma and Fitz to have a rather good day together, something that had sadly been a rarity in the weeks since he had gotten back. Since Casino Night really. 

The day had started with May’s ex-husband coming into the office. News to almost everyone except Phil it seemed, apparently the mysterious ex of Melinda May was also a client and had stopped in to have a meeting with Phil. The man had been going to get something from the vending machine when he happened to run into May in the annex. Normal news traveled about the office quickly, but the rare news surrounding Melinda May often came close to breaking the sound barrier. 

Jemma was collating some of Phil’s documents when Fitz had suddenly leaned on her desk, a wide-eyed expression on his face. It was one of the looks Jemma had missed seeing on him most. He looked excited with a smile. A look that so often during work hours had been reserved only for her. 

“Did you know May was married?” Fitz asked, his voice low. 

Jemma’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Yeah! Neither did I. Just found out.”

“How?” 

“I just met her ex-husband in the break room,” he said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the annex. “Well, really I overheard them talking more than I met him.”

“Really? Wait! The handsome man Phil’s meeting with?”

Fitz nodded. “That’s the one. But get this, Jems. When I heard them in the break room, he had said something and then whatever it was he had said was followed up by this noise. Turns out it was May laughing.”

“He makes her laugh,” Jemma cooed, leaning forward with her elbows on her desk. “I wonder why it ended between them.”

“Dunno. Was wondering the same thing myself. Never seen her smile like that before, though. Slightly unsettling.”

“Oh hush, Fitz. It’s sweet! May was laughing. Gosh, I wish I could have heard it.”

“It was like peering into the fourth dimension. Didn’t know how or why it was happening, but I am a changed man.”

Jemma rolled her eyes, swatting the forearm he was leaning on. 

It was then that Daisy appeared, speed walking up with an empty manila folder in her hands. She slapped the thing down with probably more enthusiasm than necessary.

“What’s in the folder, Dais?” Fitz asked, nodding to the file whose impact on the desk could be felt like seismic waves. Jemma was taken aback to notice that Fitz was still smiling as he talked. Thank goodness for positive Friday energy and the arrival of Melinda May’s ex. She had missed that smile more than she had ever missed anything--well apart from Fitz as a whole.

Daisy glanced at the folder she had just thwapped down. “Wha--oh! This. Yeah, I have no idea what this is. I grabbed it off of Hunter’s desk on my way to reception. I needed to look like I had a reason to be over here.”

“Did he need it?” Jemma asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. He can get another one.”

Fitz picked up the folder. “Not one that has doodles of Raina with thorns covering her face like a porcupine.”

“How do you know that that’s Raina?” Jemma asked, standing up from her chair slightly to see the drawing. 

“She yelled at him this morning about filing his paperwork for accounting. Also, he’s labeled it. See--”

“Guys!” Daisy interrupted, “we can discuss Hunter’s art ability later. I have more important information. May was laughing. Laughing! At first I thought someone had set off a really strange alarm or perhaps was hurt or something, but then I peeked over my divider and saw her and that client dude in the break room.”

“We were just talking about that,” Jemma said, nodding to Fitz. 

“What the hell is going on. Are we in the Twilight Zone or something.”

“Fourth dimension,” Fitz mumbled, making Jemma giggle.

“Like, who is he to her? What reset button did he push to make her remember how to do that? I didn’t know she could do that.”

Fitz picked up a piece of candy from the jar on Jemma’s desk and popped it into his mouth before speaking, leaving Jemma to frown at him playfully. She always used to chide him about speaking with his mouth full. As rude as it was manners wise, having met Fitz’s mother before and knowing the kind of manners she would instill, Jemma had a feeling it was less a bad habit and more a very purposeful way he had of teasing her.

“He’s her ex-husband,” Fitz mumbled through the butter mints he had dissolving on his tongue. He seemed surprised at what he was eating, looking down at the container with wide eyes. Jemma realized with a jolt that he had probably been expecting her so-called “terrible” sugar-free jelly beans. She had changed them a few days after he had come back, the sight of them reminding her of him a distracting amount.

Daisy’s voice broke Jemma out of her short reverie.

“Her ex-husband? Wait wait wait. Hold on. May was married? Do we know for how long? Why’d it end? What’s his name.”

Phil’s voice behind them brought the trio the answers, along with a shot of fear down each of their spines.

“Yes, she was married. The duration is classified and the ending none your business. And his name’s Andrew. He’s cool. So, all that covered, how’s everyone doing?”

Fitz straightened up from Jemma’s desk while Jemma herself had to tuck her lips over her teeth to keep from nervously laughing. Phil was rather calm for a boss, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating when he told someone off. Getting reprimanded by Phil was like getting caught by dad in the kitchen, your hand half-way out of the cookie jar. The only one who could walk away from a scolding both having learned her lesson and with a light heart was Daisy.

“You really can’t tell us anything AC?” she asked.

“I cannot Daisy. What I can tell you is that it’s best if you get back to work.”

Daisy gave a salute. “Aye aye, Captain.”

As Phil walked back to his office and shut the door, Daisy quickly flipped back to Fitz and Jemma. 

“Okay, before I forget, the other reason I came up here was to check if you guys are going to Patrick’s tonight.”

Jemma quickly turned her gaze towards Fitz, a natural instinct when Patrick’s was brought up. A little swarm of butterflies batted around her stomach. It had been months since she had been able to hear the name of that bar and get to look to Fitz. 

His eyes had darted to her as well, but they missed each other by a millisecond, him looking back to Daisy before Jemma’s eyes had reached his. 

“Yeah, I’m going,” he said, “haven’t been since I’ve gotten back to Pittsburgh. That and Hunter promised he’d buy me a round as a welcome back gift.”

Jemma straightened her back. “I was thinking of going too,” she said. She hadn’t been, but now that she knew Fitz would be there, and after a whole conversation of their usual banter, it suddenly sounded like just the place to be. 

“Great!” Daisy clapped her hands back on the reception desk, her palm hitting the Raina doddle right in the thorn-littered face. “Oh, and Fitz. Would you mind putting in a few good words about me to Lincoln while we’re there. I’ve gotten to know him over the past few weeks, but you’ve known him the longest and I’d like that little bit of backing.”

“Just a few words? Can I have a list? What adjectives would you like?”

Jemma smacked Fitz’s arm again, giving him her “play nice” eyebrows. She understood why Fitz was teasing her though. It was odd for Daisy to ask something like that. Normally she had more than enough confidence when talking to someone she wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with. 

“Of course I can Dais,” Fitz said, his tone softer and less humorous after his reprimand. Daisy, though, didn’t mind his teasing and gave him an ear to ear grin.

“Thanks. Hey! Maybe we could all sit together at one of the booths or something. That way you have all the chance to be my wingman.”

“Alright. Sounds good to me.”

Jemma nodded her assent, but in her head she realized what Daisy was really up to in her nomination of Fitz as her wingman. The idea was confirmed by the wink Daisy shot her as Fitz looked briefly away to the clock. Daisy was pushing them back together. Whether it was just to keep the momentum brought on by the Friday freedom or to get to the bottom of what had happened between them, Jemma wasn’t sure. But either way, Daisy had her back and she smiled back her thanks.

There was a knocking on the windows of Phil’s office. “My blinds are open!” he called. His voice was dulled by the pane of glass dividing them, but the tone was nonetheless final. 

“Well, back to boredom,” Fitz groaned. He tapped his fingers on Jemma’s desk as was his normal sign of “talk to you later” and turned to go back to his seat. For a moment, Jemma forgot he had moved seats and her heart sank ever so slightly when he had to once again sit with his back to her. Jemma could have sworn the office got just a bit darker. 

Luckily, though, a laugh saved her from troubling herself too much as Hunter sat back down at his desk with a cup of tea and a shout. “Oi! Who took my folder?”

Daisy’s eyes widened. “Oops. Gotta blast.” 

Speed walking back to the annex, Daisy returned the folder to its rightful owner, the delivery confirmed with a sharp shout across the office.

“You didn’t have to smack me with my own stolen possession!” 

* * *

Before Jemma knew it, the clock had struck five--everyone knew when the clock struck five because Hunter always made a large announcement about it being quitting time--and the majority of the things office was on their way to Patrick’s pub. 

The place was it’s normal Friday level of crowded, but the Playground Paper employees pushed it over to packed. Daisy, being the wonder that she was, somehow managed to wrangle them up a booth by literally skidding past Davis like she had learned how to fly. 

“I am the queen of the booth,” Daisy declared, hopping in after Lincoln with more bounces on the seat than necessary. She flung her hand towards Lincoln, “Kiss my ten dollar ring I lost all the matching set of in order to be permitted.”

Despite having gotten into the booth first, Lincoln adorably bowed his head and pressed his lips to the band on Daisy’s pointer finger. 

“Remind me why I have to talk her up again?” Fitz whispered in Jemma’s ear.

Ignoring the goosebumps that had peppered her neck at the feeling of Fitz’s warm breath, Jemma replied, “I honestly don’t know, Fitz.”

Jemma was about to sit down when Fitz surprisingly held onto her arm. She turned to look at him, her brows coming together in curiosity. 

“Why don’t we go fetch the drinks. Leave them alone for a bit.”

“But she invited us to sit with them,” Jemma said.

Fitz raised his brows and nodded over to the booth. 

“Oh,” Jemma said surprised. “he’s kissing her neck. Okay. Yeah. Drinks sound good. Lead the way.”

Somehow they managed to find spots at the bar, though Jemma had to shove Fitz towards his stool by the shoulders to actually get him to sit.

Fitz playfully grabbed Jemma’s hands from off his shoulders, swinging them around so he was pushing her away from the bar.

“No, Jemma, let’s go back.”

Jemma tried to ignore the warm feeling of Fitz’s hands in hers, willing herself to let go of them so she could turn to block his retreat.

“Come on, Fitz, someone’s going to take our spots.”

“Let them.”

She rolled her eyes and spun him back around.

“You sit by Deke at work, you can handle sitting next to him in a crowded bar.”

“Yeah, but he’s the worst.”

“Worse than sitting next to Daisy and Lincoln as they aggressively snog.”

He shot her a grimace over his shoulder..

“Made up your mind?” Jemma grinned.

“Fine, I’ll sit at the bar. But you’re taking the spot next to Deke.”

Luckily, though, Deke happened to be chatting away to Mack about some 80s movie they both liked and was too preoccupied to really pay attention to the two of them. 

Once their drinks were ordered, Fitz and Jemma got right to talking. Fitz was still hesitant to look at her, but Jemma took their close proximity and steady conversation as a win nonetheless. As they bantered back and forth on the possibility of life on other planets, a small little voice started to pipe up at the back of Jemma’s mind, a voice she had been locking in a box since the arrival of the DC employees. 

_Did Fitz still love her?_

Because despite all the heartache that she had felt upon him leaving and after his return, it seemed to confirm the thing she had refused to admit all those months ago. _She still loved him._

“Where are you off to?” Jemma asked as Fitz stood up from his barstool. 

“Need to take a piss,” he replied.

“Fitz--”

“Sorry. Need to go to the loo.”

He shot her a smile. She really had missed those more than she herself would ever have thought possible. 

“Save my seat, yeah?”

She nodded, careful to make sure he didn’t look back before she watched him walk away. Gosh, it didn’t help that he always looked so cute, even in a shirt wrinkled by a full day at the office. For someone who refused to spend too much money on workwear, he always managed to find nicely fitting pants. 

Now alone at the bar--even Mack and Deke had gotten up from their seats in the time she and Fitz had spent talking--Jemma twirled her finger around the rim of her glass and looked over the bottles on the mirror-backed shelves. It was as she was studying a rather nice looking bottle of gin that the pub door opened and the place erupted in its normal hubbub of greeting at the new arrival. 

Anxiety twisted around her veins when she heard the name they called. 

“Will!”

“Hey, man!”

“Everybody, Will’s back!”

Jemma’s eyes snapped to the door. Sure enough, the chorus of voices was right. There he was, her ex-fiance, walking into the bar in his favorite worn out pair of jeans and the shirt Jemma had gotten him a few Christmases prior. 

She hadn’t seen him since the day he had quit working at the warehouse, leaving due to reasons he didn’t confirm but everyone in the building knew. Watching him greet everyone with his characteristic closed-mouth grin caused the air in Jemma’s lungs to begin to expand to the point of pain. But it was nothing to the way his appearance affected her. In spite of the work appropriate smile he showed, Jemma could tell the last few months had been a bit of a struggle for him. His beard was more unkempt than normal and there was a stiffness in his posture that indicated tension in his life. 

She had had no regrets with breaking things off with Will. It had been the right thing to do for the both of them. However, she did have one regret in regards to him. More a secret than a regret. In the whirlwind weekend when she had left him, she had never brought up Casino Night. Whether it was her own pain surrounding Fitz leaving that kept her tongue tied or the pain she was trying to keep Will from feeling, the kiss she had shared with Fitz in that darkened office hadn’t come to light. 

She had had all the opportunity to tell Will what had happened, but somewhere in the breakup she had just left everything out. She couldn’t even remember if she had given him any reasons at all as to why she was leaving. Neither of them had fully aired things out, leaving their years long relationship as a ghost in that old apartment.

A selfish fire burned quick and hot in Jemma’s throat as Will greeted his old coworkers like a senator campaigning for reelection. Why did he have to be there now? Right when things with Fitz were just getting back to normal. But the cool ice water of shame quickly extinguished that feeling as Will drew closer to her, coming to sit in the seat Fitz had just vacated. 

“Hey Jemma,” he said. Even his voice was gruffer than she remembered, like he’d just come from wandering through a sand dune. 

“Hi.” She swallowed hard. “How’ve you been?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been alright. You?”

She mimicked his movement. “Been alright.”

The bartender took Will’s drink order, momentarily halting the conversation. Once he was back down the bar, Will spoke again, his eyes trained on her. 

“Heard you got a new place? You liking it?”

“Yes,” Jemma replied. 

Will smiled. “Does it have a breakfast nook?” 

“No,” she laughed, the anxiety in her throat easing away somewhat. “Couldn’t find one in my price range.”

“Maybe the next one.”

“Maybe the next one,” she agreed. 

His beer arrived and they both watched as it landed in front of him on the bar. “You look good,'' he said, picking up the beer and pointing at her with it. He took a sip from the bottle through a half-smile. 

Jemma opened her mouth to thank him and repeat the compliment back, but Will cut her off with a laugh.

“You don’t have to say it back, Jemma. I know I look like the physical embodiment of the voice of doom.”

“You don’t look like that,” Jemma replied.

Will titled his head, looking at her down his nose. “You’re not good at lying, Jems.”

No, she wasn’t. But she was awfully good at keeping a secret it seemed. Or was she? Seeing him looking so forlorn made her insides feel like someone had made her swallow worms. 

To keep the conversation away from the secrets slowly crawling up the wall of her esophagus, Jemma washed them down with a long gulp of her rather strong drink. A little voice in her head told her to put the drink down and look for Fitz, but then Will started talking and her manners kept her seated. 

Before she knew it, she had been talking to Will for over an hour. It was a surprisingly nice conversation, filled with old memories and stupid stories from days long gone by. With their relationship so recently terminated, Jemma guessed it was all they had to talk about that didn’t cause the other guilt or pain, but the topics were entertaining nonetheless. 

The crowd in the bar was thinning, though Jemma, so engrossed in her conversation with Will, hadn’t really noticed until everyone still in the pub waved a hearty goodbye to Lincoln and Daisy. 

“Who’s that?” Will asked, looking at Lincoln as Jemma gave Daisy a parting wave.

“Who? Oh! That’s Lincoln Campbell. He’s one of the remaining transfers from the DC branch.”

Will hunched over the bar and popped a peanut into his mouth. “Yeah, Robbie told me about what all went down with corporate. Said all the new people in the office ran for the hills.”

“Not everyone,” Jemma replied. “Lincoln stayed and so did Kara.”

“And Fitz?” Will said.

His dark eyes moved from the bar to meet hers, locking in on her face like brown searchlights. 

“Fitz? He transferred back. And yes, he--uh--he stayed too.”

That’s when it hit her that she hadn’t seen Fitz since he had gone off to use the bathroom. She was just about to scan the pub for him when a question from Will pulled her back.

“Sorry. I was somewhere else. What did you ask?”

Will swallowed another swig of his fourth drink that night. At some point he had switched over to something stronger, though Jemma could say exactly when. “I asked why Fitz left. No one could give me a straight answer.”

The worms of guilt that Jemma had gulped down suddenly came back with a vengeance, crawling all the way up her throat to the tip of her alcohol coated tongue. 

She picked at a fly away peanut shell. “He never really said.”

“So he just left for no reason? You guys were close and he didn’t even tell you?”

“He didn’t really have to.”

Will’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

There was that cold wash of shame again. And just like worms after a rainstorm, everything she had buried down came back up. 

Jemma shook her head, a strand of hair falling in her face. “Nothing. Don’t know why I said it. I--I don’t know why he left.”

“Jemma.” Will gently placed his hand over the one she had laid on the bar. Given the attempt at a calming gesture, he must have seen the panic that had flooded her features. He was right. She was a pretty good secret keeper, but a terrible liar. And she had already started to slip.

“Will, I have to tell you something,” Jemma blurted, unable to hold her tongue any longer. She looked into his eyes, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fill her own.

“You can tell me anything, Jembug,” he said. He brushed the hair from off her face and it only made it all worse. 

“Do you remember Casino Night?” she asked. He bobbed his chin once and Jemma exhaled a shaky breath. “Well, after you left something sort of happened.”

That familiar crease of concentration in his brow returned and it took everything in her not to back away from what she had to say. Somewhere in the fog that was the pub around them, Jemma heard someone receiving calls of farewell. Will, taking a pause from his focus on her, looked up to see who was leaving, even giving the person a wave, but Jemma kept her eyes trained only forward so as not to lose her nerve.

“After you left...after you left I had a talk with Fitz and he told me he loved me.”

She expected Will to go pale, for his face to drop, but instead a warm flush of red started to work up his neck. However, she was too deep into the story now and didn’t seem to notice the color rising to the surface of his skin. The events of Casino Night suddenly began being told in a full ramble.

“He said that he loved me and that he knew that it wasn’t good timing, but that he just needed me to know. And then I realized that there might have been feelings there on my end as well and I went to call my mum to talk to her about it and then Fitz came into the office looking for me and—and we kissed.”

Jemma’s eyes couldn’t find a single place on Will’s face to focus. His gaze was darkening, his lips were thinning, and she was now seeing the tint of red on the apples of his cheeks. After what felt like an eternity, all Will said was, “Fitz kissed you.”

“No!” Jemma blurted. “Well, yes. But Will--”

Will didn’t hear the end of it. Instead, in an anger she had never seen in him before, Will marched towards the pub’s exit. 

Jemma fumbled off of her stool. “Will, wait!” 

It was like someone else was inhabiting his body. He seemed to be focused on finding something or going somewhere, his posture no longer stiff, but instead set with a purpose. 

Jemma dodged pub chairs and people, accidently shoving Deke as she called for Will to stop. Before she knew it, they were outside in the damp cold of the evening air and Will was marching right towards a familiar looking shadow.

Fitz was leaning against his car door, looking like he was replying to a message on his phone. With his head bent, he didn’t see Will coming until Jemma screamed. 

The punch that had been aimed for Fitz’s face didn’t hit it’s target. Instead, Fitz ducked out of the way as Will was tackled to the ground of the parking lot by Deke. Jemma hadn’t realized he had been behind them.

“Hey man! Cool it!” Deke shouted, standing between Fitz and a slowly standing Will. 

Fitz looked to be in a state of shock whereas Will’s face was draining of color and filling with regret.

“Hey, why don’t I call you a cab,” Deke continued to say, carefully walking towards Will with his hands up in an attempt to placate him. 

Will rubbed his forehead before waving off Deke’s offer. Without another word, Will walked backed towards the bar, leaving Jemma in tears as he passed her. 

The three remaining witnesses of the event stood standing awkwardly in the cold, Jemma with her eyes unable to look away from Fitz’s pale face, Fitz standing stiffly with no idea what to do, and Deke looking between them with an expression that showed he had not a single clue how to help.

“Fitz,” Jemma breathed, taking a step toward her friend. Were they still that after tonight? With the cold air nipping at her skin, she was suddenly transported right back to Casino Night. 

Fitz bit his lip and backed up a step closer to his car. “It’s my fault, Jemma,” he said in a hollow voice that made her shiver worse than the chill in the air. “I’m the bad guy.”

Her voice died in her throat and she stood there mute as Fitz got in his car and drove out of the parking lot. 

The worms in her stomach were gone now and instead she swallowed stones. The moment she couldn’t even see Fitz’s tail lights, she collapsed onto the bench outside the pub, the weight of everything pushing her down down down onto the old paint-peeled wood. Holding her face in her hands, she started to do the only thing left she could do. Jemma started to cry. 

“Jemma?”

Her head shot up at the sound of Deke’s voice and she tried to wipe away the tears streaming down her face. As if he hadn’t just witnessed everything that had just happened.

“I’m sorry Deke,” she choked out, not quite sure why she was saying it. 

She was embarrassed he had seen everything that had just taken place. Embarrassed that she was crying and upset that she was embarrassed at all. But at the root of it all, sitting on that bench, she felt utterly alone. 

The office temp looked at her with large, understanding eyes, not even needing to shake his head to tell her she had no reason to be sorry. Instead, he sat beside her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. It was awkward, but endearing and it was enough to cause Jemma to feel just a touch less lonely. Letting herself break, she returned her face safely into the palms of her hands. There would be things to face on Monday, but for now she was just going to sit with Deke and cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm suuuuuper sorry about this ending guys! The chapter was originally going to keep going but it just got way too long. Do not fret!! Better times for our lovely Fitzsimmons are on the horizon, because y'all know I refuse to give them anything other than their happy ending. Just stick with me! Again, I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! 
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr @springmagpies! 💕


	7. Monday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... fun facts. I have not updated this fic since October. I have no excuse. I am just sorry. I am going to try and get this fic posted every Tuesday and Thursday until it is done! I love this fic with my whole heart, its just break downs and writer's block is not the best. But I cannot wait to share the rest of this fic with you all!! Love you all a ton and thank you so much for keeping up with me and my mess of a human tendencies! 💛

Even the common expression of “Mondays suck” could not do the start of Jemma’s week justice. She had spent the entire weekend dodging Will’s endless stream of calls, having no idea what she could possibly say to him at that moment, and obsessing over how she was going to face Fitz that coming work week. She had been stressed, depressed, and unbelievably restless. She had even gone to the lengths of reorganizing her entire collection of books in an attempt to redirect her horrible wandering thoughts. Hours she spent taking them off their shelves, sorting them in stacks, and placing them back in their new locations, all to uselessly try and squeeze down the relentless feelings pushing against the lid of their box.

The whole weekend, Jemma’s insides felt like a roiling boiling pot of emotions. Part of her was angry at Will, wishing to push him and shout at him and scream a little for what he had done. He had been intoxicated and heartbroken and the motives behind his actions were understandable. Still, drunkenly marching outside to punch Fitz in a pub parking lot was not something she was readily willing to forgive him for. 

She understood the reasons behind Will’s action and in many ways had already forgiven his anger. He had all the right in the world to be angry at not only her but the pair of them. Still, in a selfish, but also somewhat uncontrollable manner, Jemma was angry right back. The friendship between her and Fitz had just been starting to mend and he had quite literally almost punched a hole in it. More than that, he had scared her, nearly hurt someone, and was entirely not himself. 

And yet, on the other, probably more reasonable hand, was the extreme and heavy guilt that weighed upon her stomach, the guilt of just about everything else that had happened. It was partly her actions that had led Will to react the way he had at Patrick’s. She had been the one to leave and hurt him, had been the one to walk away with secrets on her chest… had been the one to kiss Fitz back when she was very much engaged to Will. 

Though, Fitz had kissed her too, and in some ways that was a frustration all on its own. It was something that had been sending alternating feelings of unwarranted excitement and frustration for what was becoming close to a year. 

But had she not wanted him to? 

Yes. She had. 

Jemma had wanted Fitz to kiss her more than anything. And letting him slip out of her hands had been one of the biggest regrets of her life. Because she loved him. And even through all the warring emotions going on after Casino Night, after the merger, after Friday at Patrick’s, Jemma still knew with absolute clarity that she loved Leo Fitz. Question was now if he still loved her back.

The other feeling stirring about inside her, and often rising to the top of the pot, was panic. Yes, anger and guilt and heartache were all making themselves very well known in her overflowing emotional crucible, but she found they were all boiling down into the overwhelming feeling of nervousness. 

Deke had promised her that he wouldn’t spread around what had happened in the parking lot of Patrick’s, but there had been enough people from the office still at the pub to guess what was going on. They had seen her rush out after Will and Deke after her, had probably seen a shaken Will coming back. She also knew that there were already enough episodes of gossip preceding the whole ordeal that another was itching to air anyway. When she had called off her engagement so soon after Fitz had left rumors had immediately started to fly about. So, in the grand scheme of it all, it probably wasn’t too hard for her coworkers to all make the leap and guess what had gone on. 

Really, though, Jemma didn’t much care what her coworkers thought of her. No, that was a lie. She very much cared what  _ everyone _ thought of her. Even though she liked her coworkers very much, there were times where she couldn’t help but think that some of them saw her merely as poor little Jemma, a sweet young girl stuck as a receptionist. Jemma Simmons, always in need of saving. 

“That’s not what they think,” Fitz had always assured her in bygone days, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. 

“And if it is?” Jemma would reply.

“Then they can all bugger off. Because you're brilliant.” 

Normally, thinking of Fitz’s encouragement helped ease the knot of nerves in her stomach. But on that nerve wracking Monday morning, it only made her hurt that much more. 

She got to work even earlier than she normally did that day, walking through the front doors before the sun had even fully risen in the sky. There was still a shadow hanging over the entrance, making the lingering morning smell like cold pavement. The parking lot was nearly empty and Billy the security guard had only just unlocked the door upon her arrival. 

The last time she had been this early to work had been the day of the merger. On that day she had been too excited to see Fitz again to stay away from the normally dull box of a building. Now, she had merely been unable to stay asleep. After spending what felt like a lifetime tossing and turning in her bed, she figured she might as well get ready and clock into work before everyone else showed up. Perhaps, if rumors flew about as fast as she expected they had, then she’d be like a zoo animal for people to gawk at as they arrived. What a wonderful exhibition her anxious misery would make. 

She had to forcefully shake the terrible thought from her head as she got off the elevator onto Playground Paper’s floor. There was no use reflecting her own mean self-consciousness onto her coworkers and passing the thoughts off as theirs, whether they actually thought such things or not. It was also not a very kind thing to do to herself. She took a deep breath just outside the darkened doorway, exhaling slowly from her lips as if she were blowing away the thoughts like dead leaves clinging to a branch.

After turning on the lights to the office, Jemma settled down in her rolly chair and got to work. Taking the old plastic phone off its hook, she put it up to her ear and pressed the message buttons left over the weekend. She had just gotten through the fourth and final missed call when the office door swung open and Phil walked through. 

“Good morning, Jemma,” Phil said, hanging up his coat after entering the room, “you’re here early.”

“Am I not always early, sir? Getting the worm and all that?” She tried to smile, but she got the sense Phil saw right through her. Had the office gossip wire operated even faster than usual? Or was Phil just intuitive? Given he wasn’t normally one to subscribe to the office line of hearsay, Jemma figured the latter. 

He gave her a half smile, a crinkle forming underneath his eyes. “I guess that’s true. Earlier than usual, I should have said. Have I got any messages or appointments?”

Jemma consulted the color coded sticky notes on her computer monitor. “Yes. Maria wanted you to call her when you were next available. I told her you couldn’t get back to her until Monday what with your appointment with May’s ex--I mean Andrew.”

“Nice save,” Phil said, a twinkle in his eye.

Jemma just blushed and handed him the sticky note.

Phil glanced at the piece of orange paper (C is for Carrot is for Corporate) and grimaced. “Any idea what Maria’s calling for?”

“Sorry, all she said was she needed you to call her back as soon as you could. Seemed important. Though, I guess it always is important with Maria.”

“How’d she sound? Normal Maria intimidating or extra icy?”

“Surprisingly warm actually. Brisk, but warm.”

“Why is that more concerning?”

“Because of its rarity.”

Phil nodded and pointed at her with the sticky note. “I believe you’re right. Well, off to my office I go.”

“Good luck,” Jemma smiled.

Crossing his fingers around the carrot colored sticky note, Phil backed away into his office and shut the door. This left Jemma once again in the quiet companionship of empty desks and the heater that was still trying to wake up. 

May was next to get to work, giving Jemma her signature morning greeting of a silent nod as she passed through towards the annex. With the next arrival of Mack, Elena, and Deke, however, came the looks she had been expecting. 

Mack and Elena weren’t normally very involved in the rumor mill. However, given the fact that they had both still been at the pub during the incident and were also the ones who carpooled with Deke, Jemma was unsurprised when their morning greetings were a bit… stiffer than usual. Was that the word? Not cold, just more unsure. It was as if they couldn’t figure out what to say to her. After all, what did you say to a person who’s ex-fiancé almost punched one of their fellow coworkers for reasons that were unknown but also relatively obvious? Jemma sure didn’t know. How often did situations like that come up in day to day life?

“Good morning, Jemma,” Mack said, giving her a quick nod.

“Morning,” Elena added. 

Jemma thought she saw the pair share a glance, but she wasn’t sure. 

“Good morning,” she smiled back. Was she being too cheerful? Should she be more subdued? Even as they walked over to their desks, Elena going over by the windows and Mack in Fitz’s old seat--she really had to stop seeing it like that--Jemma was trying to figure out if her morning greeting had been the correct one after the events of Friday. Her mind was just beginning to spiral when Deke’s hello pulled her out of her own head. 

“How are you doing?” the temp asked, drumming his fingers on the top of her desk. 

“I’m okay,” Jemma replied with a smile. 

Just as it had been when she had smiled at Phil, she wondered if Deke could see through it. Fitz always said she had a face like a window, always showing exactly what was going on in her head. But maybe that had just been with him.

What Deke said next took her by surprise. “I didn’t tell them,” he said, ducking his head low between his shoulder blades. “I think Will told someone back inside. Maybe the bartender. I don’t know. But I swear I didn’t--”

“I know you didn’t, Deke,” Jemma reassured him. “It’s okay.”

Deke took his hands off the desk and shook his head. “It’s not okay. I mean no one blames you. Or Fitz for that matter! Or really even Will.”

“They don’t blame anybody?” she asked, quirking a skeptical brow. 

“So they blame Will a little bit. I mean, he did try and punch Fitz.”

Jemma frowned, her face scrunching up at the very fresh memory as well as the idea of Will getting kicked while he was down. 

Deke grimaced. “Okay, right. Not helpful. What I was trying to say is no one is talking crap about you or anything. They’re just--”

“Talking about me,” she finished. 

The temp’s shoulders dropped and he gave her a sympathetic frown. “Yeah.”

It was then that Lincoln and Daisy arrived, looking very chummy and affectionate, even holding hands as they walked in the door. Upon seeing Jemma, though, Daisy released his hand and sped over to reception. She didn’t even take off her coat and only just remembered to say good morning to Deke before he had made it back to his own desk kitty-corner to Mack’s. 

“Hey,” Daisy said, cutting off any preamble as was her way, “are you okay? I heard about what happened in the parking lot of Patrick’s.”

“Good morning, Daisy.”

“Oh, sorry Jems. Good morning. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jemma said. She shook her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she grabbed a sticky note she didn’t need. It was one of her bright fuchsia ones. The ones she reserved for Fitz’s doodles and mini paper airplanes. Why did her subconscious like to torture her?

“Wow, that ‘ _ I’m fine’ _ was really convincing,” her friend deadpanned. 

Looking up from her desk, Jemma tried to give her most convincing “I’m fine” look possible, and said, “Really, Daisy. I’m okay.”

“You want me to drop it, huh?”

“Please.”

The customer relations rep raised her hands up in surrender, backing away from reception. “Okay. But if you’re not okay you’ll talk to me right?”

“I promise,” Jemma replied. 

And she really meant it. However, as Fitz walked through the door and shrugged off his coat, she was unsure if she’d actually do so. 

He had his head ducked as he entered, focused more on the carpet and his own shoes than her. There was a nervousness in the way he held his shoulders, slightly too tight and too close to his ears. The moment he was free of his coat, he gave her a quick smileless wave and then passed her to take his seat at his desk. 

She was no longer nervous as she watched the back of his neck bend forward, his chair scooting forward as he started up on his work for the day. Her boiling pot of emotions was still roiling inside her, but it was longer letting off the steam of nerves as it had been earlier. No, now the only feeling she felt rising to the top and up her throat was heartache. Not just because she might have just lost a chance at a life of love with Fitz, but because she might have just lost his friendship for good. 

* * *

The first thing Fitz had thought upon getting into his car and escaping the pub parking lot was that he wished Deke hadn’t been there to stop the punch. He wished Will had actually gotten to hit him. Part of him really thought he deserved that punch. Part of him? Or most of him? Hadn’t he told Jemma exactly what he thought of himself? 

“ _ It’s my fault. I’m the bad guy.”  _

That’s what he had told her. And he had meant it. Every single word.

Who had he been to tell Jemma how he felt? Who was he to put her in that situation? And then he had kissed her, had taken it that one step over the line that he couldn’t take back even if he had wanted to. And worse, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to take any of it back. Not the declaration, not the kiss, and definitely not the kiss she had given to him. He wanted to keep that kiss forever. Like the absolute arsehole he was. 

Upon thinking the thought, Fitz had banged his head several times into his steering wheel, getting honked at by the big bloke in the truck behind him. He had momentarily forgotten that stop lights eventually turned green. 

When he had gotten home from Patrick’s, he had promptly shoved himself into his shower--only just remembering to take off his clothes--turned the water to scalding and then freezing and then back again, and banged his head a few more times against the tile for good measure, muttering different watery curse words under his breath. To his great disappointment but not to his surprise, it didn’t help his circumstances in the slightest. At the very least it wore him out enough to buy him a rough few hours of sleep. 

His brain betrayed him, though, and his dreams were filled with Jemma. Her voice, her laugh, the way she scrunched up her nose when she gave him an encouraging nod. In the dreams he still sat in his old seat, still faced her, still made her smile. But when he awoke two days later to that bleak January Monday, he knew he’d be heading off to an office with a Jemma he couldn’t even manage to look at in the eye. He wished he could, though, because at the root of everything he just really missed her.

By the grace of God, Fitz somehow resisted the urge of banging his head a few more times into the steering wheel on his way to work. Or perhaps it was more the pure exhaustion he felt that kept him from doing so. He had woken up with a slight headache behind his eyes and a lump in his throat that he couldn’t seem to clear away. However, his resistance began to wear thin when another dreadful thought perked its beastly head halfway through his drive to the office. 

_ He worked with people other than just Jemma.  _

The red light a block away from the plain brick box that was Playground Paper’s office building gave him enough time to slide his face into his hands and curse under his breath. Very few people were still at Patrick’s when he had slid out the door, making to go home after Will had started up a conversation with Jemma. Yet, there had still been enough people remaining to send a message through the gossip wire. 

Aside from the people still in the pub, there had also been Deke, his coworker unfortunately stopping the punch that had been headed straight for his nose. Yet, Fitz didn’t think Deke would say anything. He couldn’t quite place why he thought such a thing, after all Fitz had played many a prank on the trying temp, but he felt it all the same. If the gossip wire had been alerted, he didn’t think the messenger had been Deke. As he walked into the office, however, he knew it had been alerted nonetheless. 

After shrugging off his coat and retreating to his desk, shutting his eyes tightly as he internally kicked himself for only just being able to wave good morning to Jemma, Fitz could feel the rest of the eyes in the office turn in his direction. Chairs were creaking back into place too quickly as he raised his head to be for any other reason.

“Good morning, Turbo,” Mack said, hanging up his phone. The normal warmth of the greeting was a little diminished, but the smile was genuine. He could always count on Mack to stay steady. 

“Morning Mack,” he said. 

Across his desk he could sense Deke staring at him. No words left the temp’s lips. All he did was give Fitz a quick nod before returning to his work. For reasons still unknown, Fitz had the feeling that it confirmed the thought he had had in the car. If Deke had started up the rumors he would have been talking up a storm, either taking credit, asking him about the incident, or trying to move the conversation away. Instead, they all just went to business as usual. As grateful as Fitz was for that, for the pair of them leaving him to his work, it also left him to silently stew in the emotions still roiling about inside him, giving him a strain in his neck as he forced his head to stay looking away from reception.

He couldn’t face Jemma. Not just yet. And not even after half a day of shoving himself mind, body, and soul into work that normally he would have given anything to be distracted from. Focused purely on the desk in front of him, Fitz managed to make fifteen sales, catch up on his accounting paperwork--Raina was flabbergasted when he handed them to her four days before he normally would have, log in his sales from the previous week, and even get back to Daisy on his customer service reports. It was amazing how much he could get done when he wasn’t spending half his time at reception talking and eating bloody awful jelly beans--though Jemma had traded those for mints at some point--or at the nearby copier pretending he was not really at reception. But along with feeling strangely productive, it was amazing how much sadder he felt as well. He quite felt as though he were drowning in progress. Each completed piece of paperwork might as well have had a stamp saying:  _ Here lies a piece of Leopold Fitz’s soul and a shattered piece of his heart.  _ Instead the stamp just said:  _ Complete: L. Fitz  _ in red ink. With a pang he remembered that Jemma had gotten him the stamp.

The day only got weirder and worse when the office door opened twenty minutes before lunch, revealing a visitor no one thought for a second was there to purchase paper. 

* * *

Jemma had been taking a rather infuriating call from a Mr. Gideon Malick, everyone’s least favorite client, when she had heard the front door open. Too preoccupied with trying to tell the man on the phone that there was no room in Phil’s schedule for a meeting on the twentieth at four forty-five, the office being closed fifteen minutes later, she didn’t see who had entered until they were leaning over her desk. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Malick--yes, I understand--I can read a calendar, thank you--and yes, a clock--Well, I can’t quite say I am sorry for my tone as you just insulted my intelligence,” She had looked up to make a silent screaming face at Fitz, forgetting for a moment that things were uncomfortable between them--she really had to stop doing that, when she instead locked eyes with Will of all people. 

He gave her an awkward smile, unaware that behind him Deke had stood up from his seat, Hunter and Bobbi had both turned around to face reception, and that Mack had suddenly stopped his fingers from typing on his keyboard. 

Jemma blinked for a moment, Gideon Malick’s voice droning away in her ear, before she gave Will a quick  _ one second  _ finger. She looked over her shoulder through the window of Phil’s office, pointing at the receiver held to her ear. She saw her boss’s eyes flick between her, the phone, and Will before he gave her a thumbs up.

“Mr. Malick,” Jemma said, trying to keep her voice level, “I’m going to transfer you over to Phil now.” She didn’t even wait to hear his signal of agreement. He didn’t deserve her patience anyway. After all, Phil was about three days shy of being able to drop him as a client. 

“Uh, hi,” Will said, Jemma clicking the receiver back on its hook.

She took her time before looking back up at him, really drawing out how long it took her to take her hand off the telephone. All her emotions had started to boil up again and she had to swallow hard to keep them down. The heartbreak was sucked back down again to the very bottom of her stomach as nerves shot right back up like bile.

Finally, after probably too much time, she replied with a short, “Hi.”

Will rapped his knuckles on her desk and took a deep breath. 

“I was wondering if we could talk.”

“I have work,” she said, her eyes darting around the sales floor. Her coworkers weren’t even trying to hide the fact they were listening in. Raina had even peeked her large, curious, eyes over the wall dividing reception and accounting and she could see Joey and Elena push their chairs out a little.

Will tapped his knuckles again before laying his hands flat to keep them still. “I know. It won’t be long. I just--I don’t like how we left things and I would like a chance to talk to you. Can we maybe do lunch or something.”

Jemma opened her mouth then shut it several times. She wanted to say no, maybe push him, but deep down she really didn’t. She had loved him after all. And hadn’t she already forgiven his anger? Now they were just caught in a tangled web of long ago left feelings and strings of emotions they had all tried too long to avoid. So instead of pushing or swearing or shoving or any of the other things she had thought about, and then thought against, doing, she just nodded. 

“Maeve’s?” he asked.

Again she nodded. 

He took a step away from her desk, putting a distance between them that Jemma felt he would never cross again. Whatever this lunch was, they both seemed to know it was a goodbye of sorts. 

Taking a breath, Will put his hands in his pockets, clenched his jaw hard for a moment, and then walked to stand beside Fitz’s desk. Filled with nerves, Jemma unconsciously bit her lip and sat a bit higher in her chair. Of course Will wasn’t going to walk right up, dead center of the office, and sucker-punch Fitz in the face, but the brain didn’t always register such obvious realities. And it seemed that her brain was not the only one on that unreasonable wavelength either. Deke, with his hands tense at his sides, remained standing. 

“Hey, Fitz,” Will said, his hands digging deeper into his pockets.

Fitz swiveled his chair out away from his desk, his chin tilting microscopically downwards in a very almost nod. 

“Uh, hey.”

Fitz had never been friends with Will, a strange barrier that Jemma only now understood between them, but they had always been friendly enough. There had even been a few instances where they had been on the cusp of at least being work friends. Now, however, their conversations felt like they were coughing up ingots of lead at one another rather than talking. But still they managed to get the words out.

Will scratched his brow. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, man.”

Fitz shook his head, raising up his hands in a silent gesture of forgiveness. Jemma couldn’t blame him. After all, she wasn’t the only one grappling with a thousand questions all relating back to a general  _ how do I react and respond to this incredibly difficult and awkward situation we have all found ourselves in. _

Will seemed to take the gesture as enough and nodded his own silent thank you before promptly turning around. He half raised his hand as if to say goodbye to the office as a whole but appeared to think better of it, his hand falling back to his side with a thump. It broke Jemma’s heart in a whole new way. Not only had her life shifted in a personal sense, it seemed the office had too.

The office door opened and shut with a booming click and plunged the sales floor into a heavy silence. There was only the sound of the water cooler bubbling, the copier settling with a ka-chunk, and the gentle ticking of the clock. Then Hunter’s phone rang with an electric sounding trill and the silence was broken, everyone returning to their work.

While everyone turned back to whatever they had been doing, Jemma hesitated. And she could see she was not alone. Even though he had once more turned his back to her, she could see that Fitz wasn’t moving. She watched him for a long moment, seeing the muscles in his neck tense and release. Then suddenly he got up from his chair and made his way towards the annex, undoubtedly getting his favorite crisps from the vending machine as some sort of distraction attempt. That or he had felt her eyes on him and needed to get away. Wishing to not look as though she had been watching him, Jemma grabbed the first writing surface she could find and a pen from its designated holder. Once he was gone, she realized she had once more picked up the pad of fuchsia sticky notes.


	8. All Sorts of Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter? On time? Freaking wild mate. It's on the shorter side and for that I do apologize. But anyway, enjoy!

Lunch time came much faster than Jemma expected it too, furthering the long standing theory of humanity that time passed only at the opposite pace one wished it to. As everyone pulled their lunches out from the communal fridge in the annex passageway and made their way to the break room, Jemma grabbed her purse, pulled her coat off the stand next to her desk, and made her way to her car. 

The sun had not warmed the day much, the January air still frigid despite the afternoon being bright, icicles still remaining stuck to the roof in spite of the sunshine landing upon them. Jemma tried her best to take her time getting to her car. She lingered for a long moment outside the driver’s side door, took extra time turning the key and starting the engine, and spent a whole minute trying to find a radio station with a suitable song to listen to before even pulling out of the car park. Even with all that faffing around, she arrived at Maeve’s Diner, which was located only a block or so away from the office, in nearly record time. Apparently she had missed the memo that everyone was going to avoid going out to lunch. There were barely any cars on the road and she very nearly felt like loudly damning the suddenly inactive streets and accommodating stop lights. 

The bell above the diner door jingled as she entered the little diner and she caught sight of Will in their old booth before the young, sleepy-eyed college student could ask her how many people in her party. Some old country western song was playing over the tinny sound system and she could hear the sound of bacon sizzling on a griddle in the kitchen behind the counter. The familiarity of the place she and Will had so often had lunch at was nice and the smell of burnt coffee grounds and hashbrowns actually soothed her nerves despite her disliking both.

Will gave her a shy smile as she sat down in the springy blue booth seat across from him, pushing over the tea and water he had already ordered for her. 

“Sorry,” she said once she had thanked him for the tea, “was running a bit late.”

“Nah, I just got here.”

“You do know their tea is normally scalding,” she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. She held tightly to the body of her mug, the ceramic only just warm.

He shook his head, scratching his brow. “I didn’t know that. Never get their tea.”

“I know,” she said.

For some reason, the reminder made her sad. She did know he never drank tea, instead opting for coffee or a Coke. She also knew that he always kept the volume on the TV twice as loud as a normal person. Knew that he couldn’t stand wearing shirts to bed, knew he had no idea how to wrap a present but always found the best wrapping paper. She knew he had a whole box of VHS tapes he refused to part with and that he had the same CD in his car stereo for four years and never bothered to switch it out. She had known Will long enough to have known him, fall in love with him, fall out of love, and not know him anymore. Because she didn’t know when he had gotten the new grey shirt he was wearing or when he had changed his brand of cologne or when he had started to like lemon in his water but not cream in his coffee. The man in front of her wasn’t the Will of her memory and she knew for a fact she wasn’t the Jemma of his. 

“I’m sorry, Jemma,” he said, gripping onto his mug of black coffee. He looked up from it’s dark depths to meet her eyes, his own a shade of brown nearly as deep as his drink. “It’s no excuse, but I drank too much and was lonely and missed you. Then you told me about Fitz and I--hu--I snapped.”

She ran her finger across the rim of her mug of tea, trying very hard not to cry. The lid of her box was bending like a waterlogged tree in the cold. 

“I understand what happened Will,” she said quietly.

“I get it if you don’t want to forgive me--”

“I forgive you,” she said, cutting him off. “Of course I forgive you.”

He took a very large breath and rubbed his hand over the top of his head. “Thank you.” His mouth opened as if he were going to say something more, but she again cut him off before he could, needing to get the necessary words out. If she didn’t say it now, she didn’t think she ever could.

“But this is goodbye, Will.”

“Yeah.” His shoulders sank and his voice went low, “I know.”

Part of her had the sudden urge to slide out of the booth and never look back, but then she realized his eyes were the same shade of brown as they had always been and she felt that the person she had known all that time ago with those same eyes deserved a final conversation better than the one they had just had.

“Have you ordered food already?” she asked. 

His chin shot up and a soft smile played across his lips. “Not yet.”

“Good. Then pass me the menu.”

With their lunch ordered and set down before them, they passed the next twenty minutes eating with a bit of talking in between. Jemma could see there was a question on Will’s mind, but it wasn’t until they were waiting for their separate checks to return with their cards that he actually asked it.

“So,” he said, fiddling with the wrapper of his straw, “are you going to date Fitz now?”

In spite of the many levels of heartbreak that that question was layered with, Jemma could not help but let out a harsh, breathy laugh. It seemed to take Will by surprise.

“Uh, no,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “No, we--uh--we’re not actually talking very much nowadays.”

It was Will’s turn to let out a surprise laugh. 

“Jemma,” he said, looking at her in a way she couldn’t quite read, “you broke off our wedding for this guy.”

“No, Will. I didn’t.”

A shadow fell over his face. He nodded, scratching his brow again. It was a long held nervous tick of his.

“Yeah,” he said, nose twitching, “I know.”

Jemma put her hands in her lap and began picking at her fingers, the nail of her thumb dragging across the underside of each nail of her other hand. Finally, she said the only thing she could think of, the thing she really hoped Will knew. 

“I did love you, Will.”

He smiled, looking briefly down at the table before he replied. 

“I know. I loved you too.”

After gathering their things from the booth, they walked out of the warm diner and back into the chilly but bright afternoon. An icicle on the diner roof was dripping above the door and they side stepped away from one another to avoid the water droplets. There on the sidewalk they wished the other well, gave one another a hug, and then parted ways, each going in a new, and hopefully better, direction.

\---

Jemma had only just managed to get back to the office before her lunch break ended. She wasn’t worried about being late, though. Her heart felt slightly lighter than it had that morning, her emotions now merely simmering rather than boiling about in the pit of her stomach, so panic had less of a hold on her. She had also been at Playground Paper long enough to know that lunch time tiptoed a good deal over its office regulated bounds. Often people still brought their food or even their conversations back to their desks or would linger in the annex hallway, making excuses of tupperware that needed to be put away just to keep their lunch break going. It was knowledge of this daily office tradition that made what Jemma actually found so surprising. 

The sales floor was packed, or as packed as it could be with the number of people working there. Everyone at their desks and then some. Accounting was out of their corner, Piper and Davis lingering by Mack’s desk and Raina standing next to the filing cabinet positioned by Fitz’s. Bobbi and Hunter were close together and chatting animatedly away with Daisy and Lincoln, who had come up from the annex and seemed to have no intention of going back any time soon. Everyone was at a workstation, just not necessarily their own. But it wasn’t in the normal lunch fashion. Something was happening. Jemma just didn’t know what.

Not even taking off her coat yet, she quickly put her purse on its shelf under reception and leaned over her desk to learn the news of whatever was going on. Elena and May were standing by the copier and were the closest available for information. 

“What’s going on?” Jemma asked. 

“Phil’s got an announcement,” Elena said. 

May stayed quiet.

A bubble began to rise in Jemma’s throat, but what emotion was trapped within it she did not quite know just then. Whatever it was, it lodged itself right in the back of her throat and refused to budge. It was as she was forcefully trying to swallow that an idea hit her, the messages from Maria going off like sticky noted alarm bells. The bubble at the back of her throat ballooned that much more. 

The last few times Maria had been so adamant about a visit or getting a hold of Coulson things in the office had gone completely topsy turvy. One visit had nearly taken away everyone’s jobs and the other Jemma’s friend. And in both those instances she had felt just as she did now. All she could do was stand at her desk, brace herself for Phil’s announcement, and wait for the bubble in her throat to pop, coating her throat in one emotion or another. 

Her eyes drifted unconsciously, or perhaps subconsciously, to Fitz. To her surprise, she found that his gaze was already on her. The line of his lips was pulled tight and there was a hint of a wrinkle in his brow. It was an old message that she could read as clearly as if he had spelled it out in English across his forehead. 

_ Are you okay? _

She answered with a weary but true smile.

_ I’m okay.  _ A drawing together of her brows.  _ Thank you. _

She looked over to Phil’s office and gave a quick tilt of her head in the direction of his closed blinds.

Fitz’s shoulders shrugged microscopically before he tilted his chin to her. It was a very clear:  _ No clue. You? _

The door to Phil’s office opened before Jemma could ask or answer any more silent questions and she could have sworn Fitz jumped slightly in his seat. At least that’s what she assumed had happened as the wheels of his chair had gotten enough away from him to make him have to roll it back to his desk. No one but she seemed to notice it. All uneasy attention had been given to Phil.

“Alright,” their boss announced, rubbing his hands together as if for warmth. He paused and looked out at the crowded sales floor. “Well, I was going to ask everyone to gather in the conference room, but it seems you all have beat me to it and grouped up here. Glad we’re unified and on somewhat of the same page.”

In spite of Phil’s obvious attempt at a joke, no one laughed. Something behind Phil’s glasses kept any of them from doing so. Whatever call he had had with Maria was weighing on his shoulders in a way Jemma could not articulate out loud if she had tried. His smile seemed bittersweet, like he had just finished watching a movie ending he wasn’t sure he was through processing yet. Paired with the smile were deeper lines around his eyes and a slight rolling forward of his shoulders. And yet, in spite of the obvious signs of sadness, he did not appear necessarily sad. Jemma wasn’t sure if that made her feel any better. Even after the announcement had left his lips she was unsure of the answer.

Phil cleared his throat. “As some of you may know, I had a couple of phone calls with Maria.”

Again, no one in the office moved. No one even nodded their heads. They all knew about the calls with Maria, the only kind of phone calls Phil shut his blinds for, so there was no need to show proof of their knowledge. 

“She wanted me to congratulate you all on the boost in sales and efficiency since the merger. In spite of the few employees we’ve lost this quarter, I believe we have only grown stronger as a team and that is reflected in our reports. It’s always nice to know that hard work isn’t going unnoticed, isn’t it?”

There was a pause that Phil most likely had left for cheers or claps. Anything. Instead, only May made any noise.

“What are you leaving out, Phil,” she asked. Her voice was as sharp as a paper’s edge but not mean, her brows drawn slightly together and her mouth thin. 

Phil sighed and dropped his hands. “I’ll cut to the chase then. Maria has offered me a job at corporate. Fury is retiring, Maria is replacing him, and she offered me the chance to replace her. And, after a good deal of thought--a whole lot of thought actually--I accepted.”

Jemma’s chest tightened as her brain caught up to what was meant in Phil’s words. However, his chair creaking, Mack spoke for the group as a whole.

“Congratulations, Phil,” he said. His deep voice carried more emotion that just a congratulatory feeling. There was something else in it that appeared in every other response after it.

“Congratulations,” someone else piped up.

“Happy for you, Phil.”

“You deserve it.”

Jemma tried to swallow the damned bubble in her throat, but it didn’t budge. The words that left her mouth were slightly squeaky and a touch hoarse. 

“That’s great, sir.”

“Thanks for the well wishes everyone,” Phil said, cutting off further statements of congratulations. He was almost blushing, but there was something else in his eyes that everyone seemed to catch. It was then that the sadness made sense. 

Phil had to leave. There was no debating, no talking him down, no begging him to stay. He deserved the promotion, especially after faithfully serving the company for as long as he had been. He deserved the pay raise, the company car, the bigger office in the city. If anyone deserved all of those things it was Phil Coulson. It was just… no one wanted to see him go. 

“I’m sure some of you are wondering who will be replacing me on the corporate food chain, but at the moment I really can’t say for certain. And in all honesty I don’t want to talk about it right now. I think I would just rather us all get back to work. Save company talk for another day. And, if you are all willing to, leave goodbyes out of the picture entirely. Never was very good at them.”

“Of course, boss,” Hunter said, his eyes slightly glassy.

“Aye aye, captain,” Davis piped up.

“No goodbyes will be heard or uttered,” Bobbi finished. 

It was Fitz who broke the trend.

“How about thank you?” he said, and Jemma felt that he had read her mind, and if not that, the sorrow that was undoubtedly written in her face. “Can we say thank you?”

Phil’s brows lowered in confusion. “For what?” 

Daisy let out a watery laugh, wiping away a tear from off her cheek and her voice breaking as she said, “What do you mean, ‘for what’ Phil? For everything.”

Standing up at the front of the office, his hands down forcefully at his sides, Phil looked as though he had lost all ability to form sentences. His lips went into a hard line and his eyes deepened as he swallowed hard. Finally he spoke.

“I guess I could let a thank you slide.”

Now that he had given permission, no one seemed able to say the words. But as Jemma looked at her boss, she thought he knew that it was said in each set of eyes that were upon him. 

“Okay,” Phil coughed, breaking the tension with a clap of his hands, “back to work.”

Everyone reluctantly turned back to their desks, but Jemma stayed planted where she was, staring at the back of Fitz’s head. It seemed that once again the office had gone topsy turvy. And somehow, she needed it to right itself once more.

As if sensing her looking at him, Fitz turned his head and caught her eye. For the first time in months he held her gaze, not saying anything even in silence. He was just looking at her. He smiled shyly for a split second and then disappeared back to his desk. 

But for a moment, Jemma had hope that the office would be right again in time. Not the same as it once was, but a whole new right. She had no idea if her gut instinct was correct or how in the hell it would come to pass. But with the world topsy turvy, all she could do was hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I delete the humor tag because I don't know why but I keep writing sad chapters. Lemme know.


End file.
